


In Your Debt

by ineedyoursway



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedyoursway/pseuds/ineedyoursway
Summary: Sookie saves Eric’s life and now he owes her a favor. Except he isn’t good at owing favors. Especially to breathers.
Relationships: Eric Northman/Sookie Stackhouse
Comments: 26
Kudos: 223





	1. The Sound of Silence

“Sam! I swear to you, if you don’t help me carry these kegs I’m leavin’ without finishin’ ‘em!” 

Sookie grabbed the lid of the cold, metal keg and pulled with all her might, dragging it across the dirt behind Merlotte’s. Three more kegs still sat in the back of Sam’s pickup truck. Anyone else would’ve had the job done already, but somehow it was always Sookie who ended up with this type of work. All of a sudden everybody had a dire appointment, had to run on home right quick, their kids needed ‘em, yadda yadda yadda. Well, Sookie was tired of being the first one in and the last one out. The pushover. The freak. Plus, she was getting mud all over her clean, white Keds. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, keep your pants on!” Sam called from inside the bar. Then he ducked his head out and added with a wink: “Or, you could always take ‘em off.”

“Keep dreamin’, Sam Merlotte,” Sookie scolded, lugging the keg just inside the door. She stood next to it, hands on her hips, tapping her dirtied white Keds impatiently. Behind her, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It was a typically hot, humid day in Bon Temps, Louisiana, and it was only in the early morning that it felt decently okay to be outside. A few more hours and she’d be praying for a fan and a tall glass of water. 

This was Sookie’s favorite time of day, when it was all quiet, peaceful. The drunks asleep or passed out, not rowdy and obnoxious like they were all night at the bar. The rest of the town not even up yet, still cozy in their beds. No loud, intrusive thoughts to weasel their way into her head. Nothing inappropriate, rude, hurtful. She wanted to be out in it; her moments of peace. She sure as heck didn’t want to be lugging kegs until it got hotter than an oven on Thanksgiving day.

“You can go, Sook. I’ve got the rest of ‘em,” Sam said, toweling off his hands with a dirty rag. He looked extra ragged. The night before had been pretty eventful, what for Bon Temps standards. The bar was nearly full, and, as always, Merlotte’s was short-staffed. Then, when she least expected it, a living, breathing vampire came in. Well, minus the living. But she was pretty sure he was breathing. He said he was mainstreaming, but their bar wasn’t exactly stocked with what that entailed. Still, she couldn’t help but go back to his table time and again. And it wasn’t until later that she figured out why.

He was a void. She couldn’t hear a thing. No thoughts. Nothing. It was the sweet, sweet silence that was so rare to her. After all, even with her shields up some things always managed to leak their way through. But not with him. He was like the morning: peaceful and cool. _Bill,_ she thought to herself wistfully, remembering his polite, Southern introduction, _I wonder if he’ll ever come back._ She didn’t count on it. Bon Temps wasn’t exactly the most welcoming place, after all. She’d seen that much first hand.

She waved goodbye to Sam and headed out to her car on the edge of the lot. She fished around for her keys, then decided against it. She wasn’t too tired, and it would feel good to walk, get some fresh air after a night cooped up inside the bar. She slung her bag over her shoulder and took to the side of the dirt road, letting the feel of the long grass rub against her bare legs, trailing her fingers along the leaves that seemed to reach out and seek her touch.

Bird calls sung among the greenery, shafts of light peeked through the overgrowth. It looked magical, ethereal. Low mist sparkled like diamonds as the sun ran through it. She felt as though she could see every dew drop, could hear every animal, could taste the humidity as it grew hotter with every passing minute. Her home. Though she’d never properly left it, she knew in her heart there was nowhere else she’d rather go.

She’d been walking for a few minutes longer before she noticed the silence. No more birds, hardly any animals at all. Just the sound of the wind whispering through the brush. She felt a pressure at her temple and she reached out with her mind, dropping all shields. Exploratory. Her eyes stared at the trembling forest, dappled with glowing ferns, until she felt it: the void. She hesitantly pushed outwards, trying to understand its absence. It felt eerily similar to the feeling she got when she met the vampire Bill. Not silent, exactly. Just empty. Like a vacuum. But it couldn’t be Bill, it was daytime. Right?

Slowly, Sookie ventured into the underbrush, twigs snapping beneath her feet, dried leaves crunching with every step. As she got closer, the void seemed to grow and fizz at the edges, encompassing a wider space. Then she began to hear him. Really hear him: not just his mind but his movement. The whimpers, the heavy breathing, the sound of hands grasping earth and dragging. The jingle of… chains? She sped up, jogging now as she tried to reach him, tried to reach the only peace she’d ever felt in her life. Bill couldn’t be out in the daylight. She’d lose him before she’d even gotten a chance to know him. She couldn’t bear it and that alone blinded her.

She broke through two thick pines and stepped into a bright clearing littered with wildflowers. In any other circumstance it would’ve been beautiful. But today, it was the opposite. For there, before her, was a vampire, chained down with silver. Dying. And that vampire was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent not Bill.

x

Gingerly, she stepped toward him. The air around him was hazy and smelled of cinders, inhuman with decay. There was blood leaking from his ears and nose, his skin aflame, practically glowing. Silver chains around his neck, wrists and ankles kept him rooted to the ground, in thick, heavy layers. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans, blond hair coated in more blood, a thick gash forming on his cheek.

She leaned over him, casting a shadow with her body from the early morning sun. His eyes parted only barely, peering up at her through bloody lashes. And then he lunged.

Sookie flinched, dropping a few paces away, but she needn’t have moved for the vampire ricocheted right back to the earth under the force of the chains. His fangs were out and he breathed heavily now, each exhale leaving his chest in a grunt of anguish. He was in pain. Clear, brutal pain. Against her better judgement, she crept forward again, conscious of the sun rising ever higher behind her head.

“I can help you,” she said slowly, “but I have to trust you.”

His breathing quieted slightly, listening to her but seemingly unable to respond.

“You can’t bite me. I’ll get you out of here but you can’t kill me.”

He nodded, but only barely. There was a fizzing sound as his chin made contact with the chains and he bucked wildly. He was trying to speak, his voice gurgling wet.

“Help me,” he ground out. “Remove chains.”

With one quick tug, she removed the chains from his left wrist. He screamed, guttural and low, fangs bared, and with his free hand grabbed her neck and pulled her down to him. She was hovering only an inch from his face now, both hands resting on his chest as he burned beneath her.

“Hey,” she breathed. “Let go. Or I don’t do the rest. I won’t be able to. You’ll be stuck here in these chains and you’ll die.”

He held her for a long moment then released her one finger at a time, letting his hand drop. She did his ankles next, his other wrist, his neck. Each one was worse than the last. By the end of it, bloody tears dripped from his eyes, his hands clenched once again into the dirt beneath him. He didn’t even seem to realize he was free until she stepped back from him. And then he disappeared.

She felt him before she saw him. Speed so fast it caused the wind to pick up her hair and place it back down. He shot through the trees chaotically, stumbling, blind. She could hear the branches he hit, the trees he ran clean through. Then, there was a thud and the sound of a crow: one long, lonely caw. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Sookie cursed under her breath, taking off after him into the woods. She followed the trail of destruction until she found him on the side of the road, crumpled up like he’d been shot. The dirty gravel path was empty as far as she could see; little traffic passed through in the early morning.

“Can’t go farther,” the vampire mumbled, curled up in a fetal position at her feet. He looked up at her, his mouth parted a bit. Eyes open but hazy. “Are you an angel?” He seemed to have an accent. Something foreign she couldn’t place or had never heard before, definitely not in Bon Temps. She’d have remembered it. 

“Far from it,” Sookie responded, glancing back and forth. The closest indoor space she could think of was Merlotte’s. Plus, wouldn’t vampires need a basement of some sort? She tried to think back to what she learned from that 20/20 exposé she’d watched a few years ago during the Great Revelation but was coming up short. She'd seen on the show that vampires burned up in the day but this was truly something else. They didn't describe it like this. This was vile. Gruesome. She wouldn’t wish this fate on her worst enemy. 

“That’s okay, I didn’t deserve an angel.” He was mumbling now, the words slurring. 

“What? We need to get you inside,” Sookie said, exasperated. She reached around his elbow, his skin hot even through the leather. She tugged. Nothing. “You’re heavier than ten of those dang kegs,” she cursed, grabbing and pulling once more. He dragged a couple inches along the road, yelling out in pain, quieting.

“Let me die, min ängel.”

“Oh no you don’t, we got this far didn’t we?” She was determined now. She grasped with both hands and was about to tug when she heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires. In the distance, Sam’s pickup approached in a cloud of dust. He pulled up alongside her as she waved her arms to flag him down.

“Sook, what the hell?” he yelled, leaning out the window and surveying the scene in front of him. “Is that a vamp?”

“Yeah and he’s dying, Sam. Help me get him into the car and back to the bar,” she said quickly, going around his backside to pull him up.

“Aw hell no, I’m not touching that thing.”

“Don’t be prejudiced. Now is not the time.”

The vampire’s head was limp on the ground, but she could see him attempting to follow the conversation between her and Sam. He looked bewildered and delirious. She reached underneath his shoulders to begin pulling him up, surprised by the weight. This guy was huge. She heard the driver’s side door slam shut as Sam came around.

“Get his legs,” Sookie ordered, but when Sam approached the vampire made an awful hissing sound in his direction. “Now you stay quiet. He’s helping you. And no bitin’ him neither.” Sam backed away. “Oh would you get over yourself and grab his legs already?”

Sam then turned his glare to her, pushing her aside. 

“You get his legs. Come on, on three,” he said. Together they lifted him up and over into the bed of Sam’s truck. The sun was really beating down, heating up the metal, warm to the touch. The vampire groaned and curled up again, tucked into the shadiest corner of the open bed.

“You got a blanket or somethin’?” Sookie asked. “Like you use for the dog?” Sam jogged to the passenger’s seat and pulled out a thick quilt, throwing it impatiently over the vampire’s body. 

The unlikely trio sped back to Merlotte’s. Subtly, Sookie allowed herself a peek into Sam’s mind, something she tried to avoid doing because it often made her feel, let’s just say, a bit unsavory. His brain was less thought and more pure emotion, and, boy was it loud. Sookie grimaced. She found herself seeking out the empty void. To her dismay, it seemed to be weakening. Shrinking. She pushed against it and she could swear she felt a slight push in return. It was barely anything, but it was there. It gave her hope. 

In the parking lot, Sam whipped the truck around and a series of thuds could be heard from the back. Sookie glared at him, arms crossed over her white t-shirt.

“Alright, well that was just uncalled for.” 

Sam just grumbled something under his breath and stepped out of the car. They went around and put down the gate, Sookie scrambling up into the bed to grab him. She was sweating now, the Louisiana heat coming out in true form. She wiped her forehead and threw the blanket off of the vampire. He hissed involuntarily in response and attempted to throw a forearm over his face, but all he succeeded in doing was lifting and dropping his arm feebly. He stared up at her silhouette, his face open in what could only be described as shock.

“Min ängel? Kom du tillbaka för mig?” His lips were dry, bloody in the cracks. She noticed his fangs were no longer out, which made him look disturbingly human. Absently, she wondered why that scared her more.

“I don’t know what you’re sayin’ buddy, but we gotta get you inside.”

Sam, surprisingly lithe, jumped in the back. Together, they carried the limp, burnt body from the truck and into Merlotte’s. His head hung to the side, flickers of consciousness appearing and disappearing on his face. Awkward and exhausted, they descended the wooden stairs into the cool, light proof storage room. They laid him on the ground, propped up against a crate of packed chips. He slumped, leaving a trail of red behind him on the bags.

“Man, I just bought those,” Sam complained. “I’m gettin’ the blanket, keep him from gettin’ his vamp juice all over my supplies.”

“Sam, wait,” Sookie said, stopping his ascent up the creaky old stairs. “I think he’s still dyin’. You think we were, you know… too late?” Her own devastation surprised her as she knelt by his side, feeling the gentle pulse of his void with her mind, the tendrils reaching out then fading, strong then silent like a heartbeat. 

“I don’t know. But what I do know is you did more’n enough for this vamp, so if, and I mean _if_ he survives, he sure as hell owes you one.” 

“Oh hush and get the blanket,” she snapped. “And shut the door while you’re up there, we don’t want no light gettin’ in at least.”

Sam climbed up the rest of the stairs and shut the heavy door with a thud. She used the pull cord attached to a hanging bulb to illuminate the space, casting dark, ominous shadows. It swung in a slow circle, giving the tiny storage room a ghostly feel, as if the darkness danced around them both in some sort of choreographed motion. On impulse, Sookie climbed the stairs slowly and locked the door from the inside, the latch sliding with a satisfying click. At the bottom of the stairs, the vampire still sat, curved nearly in half, his skin still burnt, neck and wrists still bloody from the silver chains. His eyes no longer opened.

She descended back down the stairs and knelt beside him again, holding one of his hands in both of hers. It was huge and pale, she could barely contain it in her own. She squeezed, hoping to feel some type of response but receiving none. His chest softly rose and fell. His mouth was parted, but there were still no fangs. The void was shrinking. She let go of his hand, watching as it dropped lifelessly to the floor. 

In her gut, she knew what she had to do. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, her blond hair gently brushing his forehead. She grabbed the back of his hair, using it to tilt his head back and angle his mouth at her neck. She heard him inhale through his nose, slowly and shaky, releasing it with a moan. But there was no bite. The fangs didn’t drop. He couldn’t do it.

She heard a knock on the door above her, Sam calling through it.

“Hey, Sook! I think you locked it from the inside!” 

“Just a minute!” she yelled back, panicking. There wasn’t much time. Sooner or later Sam would simply break down the door. Or her vampire would be dead. She tried not to dwell too long on the fact that she thought of him as her vampire, not just any vampire. Instead, she searched the room for something sharp. There were loads of packing boxes in the corner from all the shipping, there had to be a box knife laying around somewhere. She rooted through the discarded cardboard until she found it, an old rusty thing with the initials SM carved into the handle. Maybe she should talk to Sam about leaving his knives all over the place some other time. 

She jumped back to the vampire’s prone form. The blood leaking from his extremities seemed to be slowing, thickening. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one, but she assumed bad. She also didn’t know if vampires needed to breathe to stay alive, but he definitely wasn’t doing that anymore, either. But she could still feel his void. It was nearly an echo, but it was there. He was still alive. Or, he was still dead. Whichever.

With a trembling hand, she held the knife to her neck, her heart beating rapidly inside her chest. Distantly, she could hear Sam continuing to call through the door, but there was a rushing in her ears that drowned it out and made her focus. She had to do this. She pressed the blade into her skin, wincing as she cut a thin, clean, shallow line down near to her clavicle. Again, she crawled over to him, lifting his head up by his hair to the right angle. The drops coagulated slowly, but she could feel them beginning to drift down her neck. She leaned over until his lips hovered against her skin, the blood sliding into his mouth with gravity.

At first, there was no response. His body remained limp and lifeless beneath her own. At that moment, she felt again as though she could hear everything. Her own breathing, yes. Sam’s fists hitting the door, of course. But also the persistent buzz of a trapped fly. The scratch of her fingernails into expensive leather. The drip of every single drop of blood hitting his tongue. 

“Please,” she begged. “Please.”

And then he reacted. Violently. She heard a sudden click as his fangs descended, ripping into her skin without mercy. The first pull caused her to cry out, her hands grasping desperately at his shoulders. She couldn’t tell if she was pushing or pulling. Either option seemed to result in blissful agony. She felt his own hands fly up, cold and sticky with blood, locking her to him, one on her shoulder and the other on her side, pulling her flush against him as he continued to drink. She felt her hands go limp, her body draped against him. It was his turn to grab her hair, angle her to suit his needs. He began to lean forward and into her, their limbs entangled.

It was at that moment she realized: he was going to kill her.

She tried to muster up the ability to speak, but every word she attempted seemed to die on her tongue. She felt herself growing fuzzy, her vision warping at the edges, blurred as if underwater. So she reached out to the void instead. With her mind, she pushed. Tentatively at first, then harder. She felt his lust, his desperation, his confusion. All of it melded into one emotion, pushing back on her, overpowering her with ease. She pushed again, but she was fading fast. 

_Please,_ she begged, this time in her mind. _Please._

She felt the click of fangs retracting, loosening hands.

Then, suddenly, a loud, intrusive scream. Sam.

“Get your hands off her you fuckin’ fanger!”

And everything went dark.

x

Was she dreaming? She couldn’t tell. Everything was warm, soft, gentle. She was on her front porch, moving back and forth on the swing. Gran was inside baking something that smelled awfully delicious. Apple pie? Pecan? It must be some type of pie. She wore her best white dress, her shoulders sun-kissed, her cheeks rosy. Jason, off in the distance, smiled at her. He was working on his truck, sure, but he was also mindlessly flirting with some girl he met at some bar who sat hanging out of the driver’s seat next to him. She sighed, feeling content. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. 

_Jason,_ she called with her mind. He mumbled something to the girl, then jogged over to her.

 _How’re ya doin’, Sook?_ he asked. His mouth wasn’t moving or anything, but she didn’t mind. _Heard that fanger got you real good._

 _A vampire?_ she questioned in response. 

“You don’t remember?” he said aloud. It hurt her ears. It was too much noise, upsetting her perfect world.

“Quiet down,” she whispered. She couldn’t hear the cicadas chirp when he talked so loud. 

“He nearly killed you,” he said. “At Merlotte’s. And you were just tryin’ to help, too.” 

“Shhhh,” she hushed again. The sun seemed to set at a rapid pace. She could watch its descent from where she sat, first high in the sky, then dancing atop the trees, then a distant glow until only a little half circle remained on the horizon. Jason glanced over his shoulder. 

“We should get you inside. Ain’t safe out here in Bon Temps anymore after the sun sets. All because you saved that vamp.”

“It’s my fault?” she asked, desperately. “I didn’t mean to hurt nobody.”

He came up beside her and cradled her in his arms, pressing the side of her face against his chest, welcoming and strong. They rocked together, watching as the last of the sun disappeared, leaving the cooling dark of twilight and the unearthing of hundreds of thousands of stars. She felt content again, sitting with Jason. She realized she couldn’t hear his thoughts anymore, but figured that was okay. After all, she’d spent her entire life trying to get rid of her curse. If it just happened to be gone, so be it. What a relief. 

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out to her. She was about to join him when she saw a blur of movement followed by a black silhouette in the shape of a man. It reached out and grabbed Jason from behind, effortlessly contorting his body.

“Jason!” she screamed, standing up and rushing toward him.

She froze in her place when she heard the click. The familiar click. Two pearly white fangs, dropping, ready.

“Please don’t,” she begged the silhouette. “Don’t hurt my brother.”

But shadows don’t speak.

“Sookie,” Jason begged, reaching out to her as the fangs descended closer and closer to his neck.

“Please, I’ll do anythin’,” she cried.

“Sookie,” Jason repeated. “Please help me. Sookie, Sookie, Sookie, please.”

Effortlessly, the fangs bit.

x

“Sookie?” It was Jason. She shot up, reaching out blindly toward the voice, her arms catching the torso of her brother. She yanked, pulling him towards her, burying her face in his chest again.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, then looked up to confirm. “Oh thank Heavens.”

“I’m alive? I should be sayin’ the same to you,” Jason responded, bewildered. “You’re the one out here cavortin’ with vampires, or so Sam tells me.”

“Cavortin’? Who says cavortin’?” 

Sookie looked around her, trying to get her bearings. She was sitting at a table in the middle of Merlotte’s, the bar empty. A bloodied, crumpled up blanket lay beneath her on the floor. She realized her head was pounding and reached up to her neck with a sudden remembrance of the last day. Her neck was covered in blood but clotted and dry, thankfully. Jason blew out a whistle.

“Your neck looks like a crime scene, Sook.” 

“Thanks,” she grimaced, leaning over to stand. Her feet touched the ground just as Sam walked into the room. He walked then jogged over to her, intercepting her just as she was about to fall. She grabbed his arms as her mind whirled, black flecks spotting her vision.

“Hey, sit back down. You lost a lot of blood,” Sam said softly. 

She leaned back against the table while her world steadied. Sam stood over her, hands surrounding both her thighs.

“Look, we gotta have a talk.”

“Is he okay?” Sookie asked.

“Is he okay?” Sam repeated, incredulously. “Is _he_ okay? Sookie, you almost died. If I hadn’t gotten in there… Honestly, I don’t know what would’ve happened. He wasn’t going to stop, that’s for damn sure.” Sam moved away from her then as if trying to contain his anger. He cracked his knuckles. “I gotta open up the bar soon. I think it’s best you go home, take the night off. Shower. Recover.”

“It’s my night though,” she protested. 

“I’ll get a cover,” he replied.

“Sam,” she admitted softly. “I need the money.”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine,” he relented. “Jason, would you take her home, please? And Sookie, take your time, you hear? Don’t come back if you ain’t feelin’ up to it.”

Jason drove Sookie home, then stayed with her as she changed out of her bloodied uniform and took a shower. He fielded questions from Gran, creating some cover about how Sookie ended up staying over at his place after her last shift. Sookie didn’t want her to worry; she never wanted her to worry. As the sun set outside, she had flashbacks to her dream. Who would come out of the woodwork? What would they have to say? Who would they want to bite? Sookie felt desperately for the thoughts of her family, the only two she had left in the world. She couldn’t bear it if she brought danger or harm to them. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

Jason also insisted on driving Sookie back to work, though she protested vehemently before remembering her own car still sat in Merlotte’s parking lot. 

“How are you feelin’?” Jason asked on the drive, hand draped casually over the steering wheel.

“I’m alright. Little shaky but not too bad.” She’d done her best to cover up the two puncture holes in her neck from the vampire’s teeth with concealer. After she’d cleared the dried blood away she was surprised to discover only the two marks and the thin line from the box cutter; she was sure he’d made multiple wounds while it was happening. 

“All this feels a bit odd, Sookie. Two vamps showing up in one night? After we ain’t seen one ever in Bon Temps?” Jason didn’t make eye contact, just stared straight out at the road. “Sam told me the other one who came for a drink was payin’ special mind to you, too.”

“Jason, they only started mainstreamin’ a couple years ago. Who knows, maybe plenty’d run through and we just missed ‘em ‘cause they were in hidin’,” she said, knowing full well that it wasn’t true. She’d never seen a vampire before the previous night, nonetheless two. The void stood out. 

In a world filled with noise, silence was always loudest.

“I don’t know, feels like it’s more than just a coincidence,” he said quietly as they pulled back up to Merlotte’s. There were only a few other cars in the lot, but the lights flashed neon and she could see movement from both customers and staff inside. “Just look out for yourself, okay?” he asked as she got out of the car, grabbing her blond ponytail playfully.

“Always do,” she winked, already heading up the worn steps and into the bar. 

Sookie threw herself into her work for the rest of the night, doing as best as she could to block out all the extraneous thoughts heading her way. Turned out, a lot of people had already heard about Bill, the vampire that paid a visit to Merlotte’s the night before. In all the craziness of the day she’d nearly forgotten about him, but he was certainly the talk of the town. No one was talking about the one she’d found in the forest, though. Apparently, Sam was keeping it close to the chest, which was surely for the best. She tried to ignore their glances and suspicions, their comments about how she was always the strange one or how she must be attracting the vampires with her special voodoo magic, but by the end of the night she was more exhausted by their suspicions than by her lack of blood volume.

She dropped down in an empty booth when the last drunk duo left singing Tim McGraw at the top of their lungs. She stretched out her toes first, then her legs, then her arms, then her mind. And to her surprise, there was a void. And it pressed back.

“Sam Merlotte!” she screamed. “I cannot believe you left him down there in that basement!”

She rushed over to the door and threw it open, staring at the vampire who, though his wrists were shackled with silver and he was a bit dirty with dried blood, otherwise looked entirely unharmed. What’s more, he was beautiful. It was his eyes. She’d never seen anything like it. They were an unapologetic, piercing blue. 

“Sookie Stackhouse,” the vampire growled. “If you don’t let me out of this cellar right now, we’re both going to have much bigger problems on our hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been ages since i really watched true blood so i'm SO sorry if i mess up any of the characters or plot and such! that's why i wanted to start this sort of before the show begins and then just manipulate from there, but please let me know if screw it up somehow.
> 
> also i don't speak swedish hehe
> 
> caveats over, i hope you liked! two more chapters to come. :)


	2. The Long Ride Home

“And how the hell do you know my name?” Sookie asked, affronted by his tone. Then she covered her mouth with a gasp; Sookie didn’t curse, especially in front of strangers. Gran would have her beat for even thinking it in her head. The vampire was unfazed.

“Unimportant,” he drolled with his strange, unplaceable accent.

“You tell me right now or I’m not takin’ off those chains,” she hesitated, “Again.”

He rolled his eyes to the heavens in an actor’s histrionic display before making steady, unblinking eye contact with her. In contrast to his languid actions, her heart was racing. She saw his hands flex on the ground, the chains sizzling his skin in response to the movement. He clearly wasn’t used to being told no, or being negotiated with. And it wasn’t something he approved of.

“I don’t make deals with humans,” he responded. “Though I do believe your shifter mentioned it once or twice when he locked me down here. _Mentioned_ might not be the right word.”

“My what?”

They stared at each other once more, her at the top of the stairs and him still trapped below. He clearly wasn’t going to answer the question, though she was unsure of why. She felt like she was having a conversation in which she only spoke half the language. It was infuriating. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of Sam loading out to his truck as the other waitresses packed up to go home.

“Sookie, are you leavin’?” Arlene asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah, just grabbin’ a few things! You go on without me!” she called before looking back to the vampire. It occurred to her then that she didn’t even know his name. She turned away from him slowly, making the hair rise on the back of her neck in an automatic response even though he was chained down and unable to move. But instead of leaving, she closed the door with the now-broken lock and turned back to him, descending the stairs. He shifted slightly in response, pushing himself up with his hands into a more proper seated position, his long legs splayed out before him awkwardly, covered in dried blood. _His or mine?_ she wondered.

Moments from the night prior flashed in her mind in bursts, dazzling snapshots that overlapped the present. His limp body. His cracked lips. His fangs, tearing into the sensitive skin of her neck like it was no barrier at all. He seemed to remember as well, his nose flaring as she drew closer, tilting his head to the side and examining the approach like a predator with its prey. She knelt down before him, close but not close enough, peering up at him through her lashes innocently. He swallowed.

“What's your name?” she asked quietly.

“Unimportant,” he said again, though softer this time, nearly conversational. The force gone from his tone. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked. 

“Yes, I think so,” she replied, though she edged closer still.

“Yet you saved me,” he contemplated, as if puzzling over it himself. 

“Well, you weren’t bound to hurt anyone at that point,” she breathed. “But now…” she trailed off, looking at him questioningly.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, then seemed to check himself. “The shifter, though, I make no promises.” He smiled a wicked grin then, transforming his features into something raw and feral, something she’d seen in the vampire PSAs the church put out but never in real life. In those, the vampires went around killing, savage and ruthless. They cared only for blood. They had no moral compass. And, most importantly, they were not to be trusted. 

It scared her and she shifted away once more, a pull in the fluctuating dance they seemed to be taking part in. Closer. Farther. Closer. Farther. He looked at her then almost as though he was disappointed in her. As though he expected more.

“What happened to my brave girl?” he asked, his mouth dropping from his smile into an earnest question. Her eyes widened in anger. Excitement. Both.

“I’m not your… your… anythin’” she spluttered, worrying he could hear how her heart skipped a beat. As if to prove this to herself she reached forward and yanked the chains off both of his wrists in one smooth motion, dropping them haphazardly to the side. 

“A shame,” he allowed.

He stood up in a flash, towering over her kneeling form like he’d been waiting for her to stand up for ages. He reached one pale hand down to her, wrist still coated in blood though he didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t take it and instead stood up on her own. He let his hand drop. Even as she stood at full height he had to be over a foot taller than her. She blinked rapidly, disconcerted about being so close to an unchained vampire. No, not an unchained vampire. This vampire. She didn’t feel this way with Bill. Here, she sensed danger and something more. Something that pulled her in closer instead of letting her go. He gazed down at her calmly then reached up and grabbed her ponytail.

“Hey,” she began to protest. He brought his pointer finger up and pressed it to her lips, shushing her like a child he couldn’t be bothered to discipline properly. With gentle pressure he pulled on her ponytail until her head tilted in response, exposing her neck with the slightly camouflaged wounds. He grunted under his breath appreciatively as he examined them, then pulled his finger from her lips and pressed them to his own. He opened his mouth slowly and dropped his fangs with a click, causing her to jump slightly but remain in place under the pressure of his hand in her hair. He pressed his pointer finger to his fang until his nose wrinkled, pulling it away to reveal a single drop of vampire blood: V. 

She knew of V only through what she saw on the news or what she heard in the thoughts of the bar patrons. Dangerous, intoxicating, addicting. Supposedly there was nothing like it, though Sookie herself wouldn’t know. She’d never tried and she didn’t intend to start now. Before she could pull further away, the vampire moved his finger from his mouth to her neck wounds, pressing down and rubbing with surprisingly gentle circles. He pulled his hand away before he spoke:

“My name is Eric Northman.”

She paused, waiting for him to offer up more information. He didn’t.

“And how did you get to be burnin’ up outside in the daytime yesterday, Eric?” she asked with an intense awareness of the fact that he still held her ponytail in his large hand.

He retracted his fangs and smirked at her.

“Unimportant.”

With a rush of wind, he was gone.

x

She was back on the porch swing again, wearing her best white dress. The sun was high in the sky. She swatted at the gnats circling her for her perfume. In the distance, Jason worked on his truck, a nameless girl flirting with him from the passenger’s seat. She could smell her gran’s baking, and she knew for sure it was pie. Apple pie. She could already taste the caramelized syrup melting on her tongue, the tart bite of the green skin, the delicate airy whipped cream. She hoped it would be done soon and smiled to herself, wondering how she could possibly be so blessed.

“Jason!” she called, beckoning him over.

“How’re ya doin’, Sook?” he asked. “The long shifts at Merlotte’s gettin’ you down any?”

“Can’t be any worse than that road work you've been doin’, Jay,” she said, shoving his shoulder playfully as he sat beside her on the swing. 

“Think I’m gonna be promoted soon,” he grinned cheerily, clearly proud of himself. “Been puttin’ in the hours, might even get to head up my own small crew.”

“That’s great!” Sookie exclaimed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. They sat, content, for a few moments, Jason using the heels of his work boots to gently rock them back and forth. She tried to listen in to his thoughts but heard nothing more than the cry of the cicadas and the chirp of crickets in tall grass. She closed her eyes for only a moment and when she opened them again the sun had already set. They were bathed in darkness save for the porch light hanging above their heads. His girlfriend was gone and she could smell no pie.

“We should get you inside. Ain’t safe out here in Bon Temps after the sun sets. Not after you saved that vamp,” Jason said, standing and holding out his hand.

“It’s my fault? I didn’t mean to hurt nobody.” As the words came out of her mouth, she felt a disturbing sense of deja vu. Had this happened before? She was about to grab Jason’s hand when he appeared: the silhouette. It wrapped its arms around Jason’s body from behind, pulling him back from the light and into the shadows. 

“Who are you?” she screamed. 

There was a pause. Dead silence. Jason didn’t move. He didn’t struggle.

“My name is Eric Northman.” And then he bit.

Sookie woke up with her hand clutching her own neck as if she herself had been bitten. It was the early morning hours and she was wrapped up safe and sound in her bed, though the sheets were twisted and wet as a result of her nightmare. This was the second one in as many nights, and it was so visceral and raw it felt more like a memory than a fiction. She worked to calm her breathing down, watching through her curtains as the sun began to lighten up the sky. If she kept up like this she’d never get any sleep.

She padded over to her bathroom, examining herself in the mirror. She was still a slightly pale and drawn from losing so much blood but her color was beginning to come back. Her eyes were a bit hooded and her hair a bit dull. She leaned in close to examine the marks on her neck and was shocked to find them completely and totally healed. Not even a hint of a scar. V could do that? She was in awe. That wasn’t just a drug; that was magic.

After her shower she went downstairs to join her gran who was cooking up a plate of eggs for the two of them. It felt like she hadn’t seen her in weeks, what with all the events that’d happened in the past few days. She felt she’d lived a lifetime.

“How’re you feelin’, dear?” she asked, putting a plate of eggs and a cup of sweet tea in front of Sookie. “You’ve looked a bit off these past few days. Are you sleepin’ alright?”

“Just a couple nightmares is all,” Sookie confessed, though she didn’t want to get into it.

“Well I think you’re spending too much time at Merlotte’s. Cut down a shift or two, it’s not good for a young girl like you.”

Sookie gave her gran a smile, wishing for all the world that her biggest problem was the number of shifts she had at Merlotte’s. 

“It’s somethin’ else, isn’t it? Is it a boy?” Gran asked, hopeful yet playful. Sookie took a sip of her sweet tea to hide her blush, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

“Gran,” she chided. 

“Alright, alright. You can keep him to yourself. For now.”

“I gotta get ready. I’m on lunch shift today,” Sookie said, hopping up from the table. “Thanks much for the eggs, Gran.” She hopped around the table, kissing her on the cheek. Her gran waved her off, opening up the newspaper and burying her face in the funnies.

When she got to Merlotte’s, Sam was already furious with her. He pulled her around the back of the bar before she could even say hello to the rest of the staff, opening up the door to the storage room and following her down the rickety old steps. She noticed with a slight smile that there was still a bit of Eric’s blood on the chip packets. He wasn’t able to get all of it off then.

“What do you notice missin’ from this storage room, Sookie?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest. “I think it might be a blood suckin’ vamp.”

“You’re mad at me for lettin’ him go? What was your master plan, Sam? Keep a vampire locked in your basement? I’m pretty sure a few of those romance writers have already beat you to that premise.”

“He’s dangerous, Sookie. In case you forgot, he almost killed you.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t. Plus, he’s gone now and out of both our hair. We can just forget about it.”

She tried to push past him and back upstairs to start her shift but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You know I’m just tryin’ to look out for you, right?” She nodded, probing tentatively into his mind and finding nothing but protective tenderness. This was what she valued most about Sam: his loyalty. You couldn’t find a better, more trustworthy being. Not unless you switched species to a dog. 

“I know. And thanks, Sam. I mean it. For helpin’ me and him. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“I get a feelin’ he may come back, Sook. That vampire… he’s someone you gotta watch out for. He’s old. And powerful. And he’s known for manipulatin’ people. I don’t want to see him manipulate you.”

She paused, catching on.

“Wait, are you tellin’ me you know Eric Northman? Like, you knew him before we saved him?”

Sam clutched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah. I didn’t recognize him until we brought him down here, but yeah. He’s local. Shreveport. He owns the vampire bar there, Fangtasia, and he’s got his hand in some of the businesses around here. Just don’t mess with him, okay? The less attention he gives us the better.”

“Fangtasia,” she laughed at the name. How corny. “I don’t plan on ever seein’ him again, Sam. And given how fast he bolted out of here I’m sure he’d say the same about me,” she continued, trying to fight off her own latent disappointment. She couldn’t deny that though the last two days had been crazy, they were two of the most exciting days she’d ever lived in her life. And she craved Eric and what he could give. His silence. His void. His peace. 

Together, they went back upstairs to take care of the growing lunch rush. It was a typical day filled with the usual customers getting their usual orders. This type of shift Sookie could do with her eyes closed. Sometimes she even considered giving it a try. She was daydreaming by the bar when Arlene walked up, snapping her fingers in front of Sookie’s face.

“Wake up, someone’s here to see you,” she said, gesturing to the door.

“Sorry Arlene,” Sookie apologized. Maybe the lack of sleep and blood really was getting to her. “I’ll be right back.”

Sookie went out the front door expecting to see Jason or Gran but finding herself face to face with a stranger. She was older, maybe in her late thirties, but dressed much younger. She had on thigh high boots, a mini skirt, and what could only loosely be described as a shirt as it hardly covered anything above the waist. But the strangest part was her expression: vacant, childlike, sweet. She blinked rapidly like her eyes were adjusting to the sun, innocently parting her painted lips.

“Are you Sookie Stackhouse?” she asked, eyes wide and empty.

“I am, and you are?” Sookie responded warily. This girl was nuts.

“My name’s Ginger. I work for Fangtasia. I’m here to extend an invitation from Mast--” she cut herself off, swallowed, then continued pleasantly like nothing had happened, “from Eric Northman for you to join him tonight at our bar. I can take you there myself.”

Sookie laughed first in surprise, then in humor. Eric Northman extends an invitation? Join him at a vampire bar? Drive in a car with someone who doesn’t even look like she can see two feet in front of her? He had to be out of his mind to think she’d agree to this. 

“I’ll pass, but tell him thank you for the invitation,” Sookie laughed, turning to go back inside to help Arlene with the customers.

“Wait!” Ginger cried urgently, grabbing Sookie’s arm before she could leave. “I can’t leave until you say yes.”

“Beg your pardon?” 

“You have to say yes.”

Sookie peered at the girl. There was something about her vacant expression that felt like more than just a weird personality quirk. She looked at her false eyelashes, at her large hoop earrings, at her neck, absolutely covered in vampire bites. Then she took a peek inside Ginger’s mind. It was hazy, like wading through thick fog, not crisp like most people’s thoughts were when Sookie concentrated hard enough. She searched through wisps of memories until she found the one that was overpowering everything else: a memory of Eric himself, staring at Ginger with his eyes wide open and his pupils dilated so far the blue was nearly gone. He was mere inches from her face, unblinking. He still had blood on his ears and in his hair, so the moment must’ve occurred just after he’d left Merlotte's. _Ginger_ , he was saying, soft and smooth like reading a bedtime story, _you are to do anything you can to find Sookie Stackhouse. You are to invite her to Fangtasia by my request, and then you are not to leave until she agrees. Getting her to agree will be the only thing that matters to you. Do you understand?_

Sookie wrenched herself from Ginger’s mind in disgust.

“Please say yes,” Ginger begged. Sookie felt herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Ginger was glamoured, and there was no way she was leaving until Sookie said yes, that was for certain.

“Fine,” Sookie agreed bitterly. “But I’ll drive myself.” 

_At least it’ll give me the opportunity to yell at him in person,_ Sookie thought to herself. She was unprepared for Ginger’s exultation when she threw her arms around Sookie’s shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Sookie patted her naked back awkwardly as she attempted to extricate herself from the girl. Sookie sighed. Oh, Eric. There must be worse ways to be asked out, but she was hard-pressed to think of any examples at that exact moment.

x

Sookie drove down the highway with the windows open. The air conditioning in her old Honda Civic didn’t work, but she didn’t mind. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair, the air cooling her skin, sticky from the Louisiana humidity. She wore her second-best dress, too scared to wear her favorite due to its recurring appearances in her nightmares. She wasn’t entirely sure what one was meant to wear to a vampire bar, but she felt comfortable in the pale yellow linen and the sweetheart neckline with a knot that tied in the back. In her mind, she ran through all the things she wanted to say to Eric or, if given the courage at the moment, scream at him. The list was long; it made the drive to Shreveport feel like only minutes. 

Her nerves appeared in a flurry, taking root in her stomach and traveling upward through her chest. The parking lot was packed and the people outside definitely didn’t look like the people she normally hung around with. Lined up outside the club before the ID check, they were clad in leather and their thoughts hovered between anticipation, fear, and lust. A deadly combination she was beginning to know all too well. She received a few glances, a few up-and-downs, but most of the other club-goers were human and she was clearly not the main event tonight. Reaching the front of the line, she was surprised to find the bouncer was not a man but a woman. Deathly pale, immaculately made-up and dressed to kill. Sookie forced herself not to take a step back when the woman sucked her teeth, giving her the most deliberate up-and-down she’d received so far.

“Well, well, well,” she said, baring pearly white teeth, “What do we have here? ID please.”

Sookie took her ID out of her bag, raising her chin defiantly. The woman read her ID and seemed to come to some type of understanding or recognition. She raised an elegantly sculpted eyebrow.

“For you, Sweetheart, no cover.”

The volume of the music quadrupled when she pushed open the heavy red door to Fangtasia. The booming bass of surface level EDM made the space throb steadily; the overly red and black decor dripped around her like a gushing wound. She was shocked not only by the sheer amount of people crammed into the room but also by their range. There were vampires of course. Some milled about, some danced, some looked bored out of their wits. But there were also humans, humans of all sorts. Some looked mindless like Ginger had earlier in the day, scantily clad and covered with bite marks on more than just their necks. Others looked like models, confidently showing off their beauty though their minds belied their insecurities. Some lusted after V; their thoughts were hazy mush, thick as porridge. All were desperate for something. Sex. Blood. Attention. Danger. She felt assaulted by their hunger, so overwhelmed she didn’t even try to search out Eric. Instead, she went straight to the bar and pushed her way toward an open stool.

The bartender came over, glancing at her with slight appraisal. He had long, straight, black hair and looked like what she imagined vampires looked like before she knew they were real. Curiously, it made her want to laugh.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asked, not at all unpleasantly.

“Gin and tonic please,” she answered politely. He came back with her drink, charging five dollars before disappearing to the other end of the bar. She downed the glass quickly in an attempt to enhance her courage, signaling for another. Then, she swiveled around in her chair to see if she could find Eric.

That proved to be easy. He sat above the dance floor on a slightly elevated stage in what could only be described as a throne. His huge body was draped over it, seemingly casual, legs parted and arms dangling over the sides. For the first time since she’d met him, he was clean and put-together, blonde hair combed back behind his ears, all black skin-tight wife beater and black denim. He looked impossibly bored and stared into the middle distance, though many before him seemed to be vying for his attention. She decided to count how long it took for him to blink, and managed to reach up to 45 before he closed his eyes slowly and put a finger to his temple. How he was able to zone out in this boisterous environment caused her to giggle behind her hand, it seemed ridiculous. His eyes snapped open then, zeroing in on her, his whole body seeming to wake up. She could see the small, predatory smile curling on his lips from across the club. She felt locked in, like a deer in front of an approaching semi. All that hate she was prepping in the car turned to liquid inside her as though he cast a spell. Slowly, he lifted his hand, and with two fingers slowly beckoned her to him.

And that sure as heck snapped her out of it. She whipped back around to face the bartender. She’d already been summoned by Eric Northman once today and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of succeeding a second time. 

Only a moment passed before he appeared anyway.

“Move,” she heard Eric say softly somewhere above her left shoulder. She glanced over to see him forcibly remove the man sitting next to her by wrapping a hand in the nape of his T-shirt and flinging him to the side and onto the ground. She watched as he scuffled away on the floor, his head bowed. 

“Dude, Eric Northman just touched your neck,” she heard the man’s friend say, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood. “You’re so fuckin’ lucky.”

“You ignored my summons,” Eric said, his voice was reprimanding but a smile still played on his lips. Indulgent.

“I prefer to be an autonomous being, thank you very much,” Sookie responded, finishing her drink.

“We all have our masters,” Eric responded thoughtfully, waving over the bartender. “Get her another. And I’ll… take AB positive.” The bartender raised his eyebrow at Eric, though he got both drinks, at vampire speed this time, for the two of them. 

“Bon appetit,” he snarked, mostly to Eric. Eric shook his head quickly, so quickly Sookie wondered if she’d imagined the entire exchange. 

Eric took a sip then grimaced at the taste before speaking.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly. She strained to hear him over the music.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Sookie responded, swirling the ice in her glass.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” His hand tensed around his bottle.

“It means you glamoured that poor girl within an inch of her life so she’d get me to agree to come, that’s what it means,” Sookie said hotly, the alcohol and the heat causing her cheeks to flush. Her anger swelled up inside her, bolstered by gin and exacerbated by the hum of thoughts she was struggling to block out. They all seemed to take aim right at her.

“And how do you know that, Miss Stackhouse?” he asked slowly.

Sookie scrambled for an explanation that didn’t involve spilling all of her secrets to this relative stranger.

“I saw it on one of those church specials,” she stumbled uneasily, “they showed the signs.”

“Hm,” he responded, seeming to contemplate this. 

“Have you…” she started, then tried again, “Have you tried to glamour me?”

“No,” he said sharply, then took back control of the conversation with tampered aggression. “It seems I owe you, Miss Stackhouse.”

“Owe me what? A ‘thank you for saving my life’? Because that’s true. And call me Sookie for gosh sake.”

“I’m afraid I’m a little rusty with gratitude... Sookie.” He paused a moment before saying her name, like he was unsure if he should heed her request.

“Well then maybe you should practice,” she responded. 

The small, knowing smile appeared on his lips again. He was enjoying this little exchange, she could feel it. His body was turned toward hers, too big for the stool, limbs everywhere. Eyes all over the bar were staring at them, tuned into their conversation in varying degrees of curiosity, stress, jealousy, rage. She felt all of that emotion pressing in on her, and tried valiantly to push it out once more. 

“Thank you, Sookie, for saving my life,” he finally said, though he looked pained to do it.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled widely, baring her gap tooth. He looked down at her lips then up at her eyes again without a degree of shame. 

“Sookie, as you might imagine, I don’t like to have any debts,” he said, seriously now. Almost businesslike. “I would like to offer my services. To you. In exchange for saving my life.”

“Services,” she repeated flatly. “And what kind of services are we talkin’ here?” She raised both eyebrows in surprise, her brain suddenly going in the direction of some very different kind of services. Naughty. He seemed to read her mind and chuckled softly.

“Not in that way, though I certainly wouldn’t turn it down,” he said emphatically. “In protection.”

“Protection from what? I’m not in any danger. Worst thing that’s happened in Bon Temps is when I got a flat one time and that was in the afternoon so I’m pretty sure I’d still have to rely on Jason’s beat up towin’ service if it happened again,'' she laughed. 

“You’d be surprised.” He was smirking again, like he knew something she didn’t. “I’m a very strong vampire, Sookie, and can protect you from any threats.”

“I did hear you were old,” she allowed, which caused him to laugh again.

“Flattering,” he dead-panned.

“And why do I feel like if I agree to this you’re gettin’ more than evenin’ up our debt?”

“After a thousand years I’ve learned to hedge my bets,” he grinned cheekily. 

“A thousand years?” she gaped. He put two fingers under her chin and closed her mouth with a snap. Then he placed his palm flat against her neck where he’d once bit into the flesh, his eyes drifting closed for a moment then opening back up. She stayed perfectly still, as though they were locked together and any movement on her part would break it. She didn’t even breathe.

“Would you dance with me?” he asked, his hand out like they were in a 19th century ballroom instead of surrounded by leather, strippers, and the thump of repetitive dance music. 

When she took his hand, everything went quiet. The thoughts in the bar became a distant hum, the sensation of being crowded upon, covered up, buried, was completely forgotten. His void enveloped her like a warm blanket on a cool winter day and she sighed against him in relief. He looked at her with undisguised curiosity, a flicker of reflection in his icy blue eyes. He was trying to figure her out, but he was failing. 

But they didn’t dance. They swayed. Together, his hand respectfully on the small of her back, pulling her to him, their chests touching. Her face found its way into the crook of his neck and she felt his cheek rest against the top of her head. He moved his hand from hers to the side of her face, dragging his fingers through her blonde hair, then leaving his palm pressed there, on her cheek and over her ear, his fingers still threaded through her hair. Around them the music pumped incessantly, the crowd throbbed to its beat, the lights flashed. And yet she finally, for perhaps the first time in her life, felt calm. She grabbed the back of his shirt, willing herself to imprint on this moment, to remember it forever after it inevitably came to an end. Her few moments of peace in the unlikeliest of circumstances, with the unlikeliest of people. 

Eventually, he pulled away, both his hands wrapping under her chin and behind her head as he tilted her face up to his. He looked down at her with surprising tenderness, with a level of concern she rarely saw in anyone, supernatural or otherwise. To her surprise, it scared her more than anything. She pulled away from him rapidly, leaving him with his arms slightly outstretched, a look of confusion on his face.

“I need another drink,” she said in a rush, pushing through the patrons to the bar. Without his touch the noise of the crowd seemed to re-emerge tenfold and with a sickening punch. She downed another drink quickly then scanned the bar with her eyes. He was nowhere to be found. She placed her hands over her ears, attempting to tamp out the noise that was streaming at all frequencies directly into her brain. 

_Imagine what it would taste like just for one quick bite imagine how it feel just for one time I know it would_

_But what if she says no to me then how would I go on with living if_

_Sex was okay the last time so maybe I should try someone else this time but_

_This music is shit and this place is bound to get raided by the cops just look_

_Can’t believe Eric stuck with that blonde bitch what a waste of a cover charge she isn’t_

_Maybe if I go back to his office he’ll_

She abandoned her drink and practically ran through the crowd, bursting into the parking lot on the brink of tears. It had never been that bad before. That all-encompassing. She’d learned ages ago how to function, how to use her shields to get through the day. And what, that all came crashing down because of fifteen minutes with a vampire? The world seemed to spin before her eyes, the horizon playing tricks on her. She sat down on the curb, her face in her hands. Though she could still hear the thoughts of Fangtasia, they were mercifully muffled by distance. She stared up at the night sky, at the stars twinkling back at her, and listened to the wind. Her eyes drifted closed, her mind searching for peace. And then she found it.

Eric Northman stood above her, his void pressing down.

“Come,” he said. “Let me drive you home.”

“My car is here,” she protested.

“You’re drunk. And I’ll get it back to you.” His voice was gentle but firm as he led her patiently to a red Corvette, opening the passenger’s side door for her. 

“Of course,” she laughed, relaxing into the buttery seats. 

“I need the leg room,” he winked, pulling out onto the highway. 

They were content not to speak, country music playing low on the radio between them. She rested her head against the side of the open window, leaning it partially out as the wind ran through her hair once more. Outside, Louisiana was black as death, the trees only shapes, the world reduced to its most abstract expression. She wondered what it would be like to live only at night, to see things only in the shadows of their former selves, to lose the vibrancy of color, the hypnotism of sunlight, the euphoria of birth. She looked over at his carefully neutral face as he drove, whipping through the curves of the road like he’d driven them countless times. He probably had. He’d been everywhere, she assumed. Where else would you go if you lived a thousand years if not everywhere? 

As they pulled into Bon Temps one of Sookie’s favorite songs came on the radio.

“I love this one,” she smiled, reaching over to turn it up. It hit the chorus and she sang along, letting her voice bleed out into the night. “I've had some time to think about you and watch the sun sink like a stone. I've had some time to think about you on the long ride home.”

Eric looked over at her for the first time since leaving Fangtasia and grinned. It was so joyful, borderline innocent, that the next words out of his mouth caused her to laugh in shock.

“You’re a horrible singer,” he said.

“Why thank you,” she continued to chuckle, belting out the next verse for his benefit. 

They pulled up the dirt road outside of Sookie’s house. The only light on was the lamp in Gran’s room, flickering behind sheer white curtains. The cicadas chorused together in song, a choir hidden in the leaves. Eric’s Corvette didn’t fit here. Eric didn’t fit here. But he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said after cutting the engine. “Even though I did leave you little choice.”

“No choice,” she corrected, but with a wink. “And look, you’re already improving with your gratitude.”

“I’m a bit too old to change, Sookie.”

“Can always teach an old dog new tricks,” she smiled. 

“I’m not sure that’s the saying,” he said, but he didn’t fully correct her.

“How do you know where I live, anyway?” she asked.

He tapped his temple vaguely and grinned. She scoffed under her breath, moving to unbuckle.

“Wait,” he said, stopping her with a hand on her wrist. “I was serious, earlier at the bar. About the debt. I will protect you. And you will have nothing to fear from me. I will pay my debt to you.”

“So do we wait for danger, then?” she asked playfully.

“I worry you attract danger,” he said seriously, then seemed to lighten up. “You were the one who found me in the woods after all.”

“And you never told me why you were there in the first place,” she reminded him.

“Nor do I intend to, Miss Stackhouse.” 

She rolled her eyes at him and moved to open the door again, but he was around her in a flash and opening it up himself with vampire speed.

“Show off,” she muttered, walking with him up the steps. “I think I know the way from here.”

“I can’t go any farther anyway,” Eric said solemnly, then stepped closer to her with a wicked grin. “Not, of course, without an invitation.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, imagining all the things that could happen if she invited him inside. She blinked rapidly to keep her brain from short-circuiting. _Focus,_ she chided herself. But he was very close to her then, and he smelled clean and cool, like water in a river during springtime. She looked up into his eyes, struggling to remain grounded as he towered over her. Though this was the porch she grew up on, she felt she was on entirely new territory. She was with another person. Someone who wanted something from her. And she couldn’t hear what it was he wanted, though she had a hunch. She couldn’t hear anything at all. 

The desire to touch him was ultimately what made up her mind. To relive even a moment of the peace she felt earlier was what she wanted more than all else. She craved it.

She reached up and pressed her lips to his, standing on her tiptoes to do it. He grunted out a breath of air, and she knew then that for all his talk, he was still surprised. He responded immediately, wasting no time, threading his fingers back into her hair and grasping until she could feel a tinge of pain on her scalp. He clutched her to him with unexpected force, though she still felt like she couldn’t get close enough. He walked them both backward, pressing her into the siding, lifting her legs up one and then the other until her ankles interlocked behind his back. She grabbed his neck tightly as he lifted so she would have the height advantage and she tore into him without inhibition, daring him to eat her alive.

“You are very, very beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, his eyes barely parted, milky with lust. He sucked her lips, dragging his teeth along her chin and neck then back up to her lips again. She’d never felt anything like this, his power humming beneath her. She felt like a live wire. If he touched her in the right place, she’d be sure to explode. She crashed her lips back into his with force, grabbing his lower lip between her teeth, biting down to give him a taste of his own medicine. She yanked until he leaned into her further and moaned, pressing his forehead to hers. She was about to go in again when she heard the click of his fangs dropping and she pulled back. 

“Involuntary,” he breathed, dipping his head toward hers. She dodged him, pushing on his chest to let her down. He eyed her, then reluctantly set her feet back down on the porch. “You are afraid of me again?” he asked her less with disappointment and more with self-loathing. 

“No,” she assured him, stepping forward until she was inches from him once more. Slowly, she reached her pointer finger up to the fang, pressing experimentally into its sharp tip. His nose flared and scrunched as she did so, his hand moving to her neck, keeping her in place as she examined him. “They’re incredible.”

He gently took her hand in his own, cradling it, pulling it from his mouth and retracting his fangs with a click. He placed one kiss on her pointer finger and released it, opening the porch’s outer screen door.

“Goodnight, Miss Stackhouse,” he said with his signature small smile.

She stepped in the door, pulling it closed to just a crack.

“Call me Sookie.”

x

At some point in the night Eric had returned her Honda, but even still she barely made her shift on time. Another nightmare of course. At Merlotte’s, things were really starting to get going, what with groups of guys playing pool, a few out-of-towners sharing stories at the bar, and plenty of folks milling about the tables like they owned the place. Sookie was racing around, handing out pints as fast as she could though people seemed to keep drinking them even faster. Everyone’s thoughts were louder than usual, her shields still on the fritz from the night before, so when she did feel the void outside on her third hour of the shift her shoulders practically sank with relief.

She watched the entrance, entirely expecting to see Eric’s tall form duck through the doorway. Maybe he was already starting to pay back his debt, though the only danger she could see in here was maybe an errant dart thrown by a drunk flying her way. But it wasn’t Eric who walked through the door. It was Bill. 

He made eye contact with her immediately and smiled softly. It felt like an impossibly long time ago she’d seen him, though it couldn’t’ve been more than a handful of nights. He held her eyes and sat down at an empty table in her section, the restaurant audibly quieting down around him. Though voices were lowered, thoughts were absolutely not. They were positively screaming. All of Bon Temps knew about Bill Compton and they were dying to see what was going to happen next. Sookie steeled herself with a passive smile and approached.

“Good evening, Miss Stackhouse,” he said with his Southern drawl, pulling out the chair next to him. Glancing around quickly, she sat down on the edge of her seat. She was going to speak when he held out his hand on the table, palm up. She stared at it, feeling his void pressing out to her, begging her to take it in, promising her peace. She simply couldn’t resist, sliding her hand into his, reveling in the silence like an addict finally getting their next hit. He stared at her, calculating, as the anxiety and tension exited her body in a grateful sigh. 

“What can I get for you tonight?” she finally asked, listening only to the sound of the distant bar music.

He leaned forward, peering up at her.

“What are you?” he breathed instead of answering her question, puzzling over her expression the same way Eric did the night before at Fangtasia. 

“I’m a waitress,” she smiled innocently.

He was about to speak again when a loud noise banged someplace behind Sookie’s right shoulder. She whipped around in time with gasps and shrieks to see Eric at the entrance to the bar, the door blown clean off its hinges. 

“Eric,” she gasped as he flew over at blinding speed, throwing Bill down from his seat and to the floor, his hand clenched around Bill’s neck. Beer spilled and tables flipped as people fought their way through the new gaping exit and out into the night. The last place they wanted to be was caught in the crossfire of two vampires. Eric and Bill hissed at each other, though Eric clearly overpowered the other vampire in strength and brute force.

“Surprised to see me?” Eric asked, his voice cocky as he slammed Bill’s head into the floor.

“Get off me or I take it to the Queen,” Bill growled through his fangs. “I’ve harmed no one in your area.”

Instead Eric squeezed harder, coming dangerously close to Bill’s face, nearly whispering.

“Then leave it,” he ground out, his voice low. “Next time, I won’t wait for a reason.”

Eric released Bill, and the vampire shot back up to standing position, brushing off his jacket like he’d only dirtied it up a bit on accident. 

“Sheriff,” Bill nodded, bowing sarcastically. Then he turned to Sookie, whose face was pale and blank. “Sookie,” he smiled politely. Eric moved his body to the left, effectively blocking their eye contact. He jerked his head to the door, an order for Bill to follow, then turned to Sookie after Bill shot outside. He approached her slowly, like a poacher to a frightened animal, holding out his hands to prove they could do no harm. But she’d just seen those hands. She’d seen the harm. He reached out to touch her face and she flinched backwards. 

“He wasn’t doin’ anythin’ wrong.” Sookie spoke softly to the floor.

“He’s a vampire, Sookie,” Eric sneered. “He absolutely has and he absolutely will.”

Her eyes shot up to his face.

“But you won’t?” she asked, incredulously. “You’re a vampire too last I checked.”

“I won’t. I am in your debt,” he said fiercely.

She sighed, walking slowly to the door and out of the now empty bar.

“I’m going home,” she said.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” she looked back at him sadly. “You won’t.”

x

A few miles away, on his old family property, Bill Compton was making an important phone call. He fidgeted while he waited for a response, something he never did. Not since becoming a vampire. But he hated to disappoint his Queen and that was what he was about to do. He looked up at the night sky, hoping she was distracted with her pets and wouldn’t answer. He wasn’t so lucky.

“What,” she answered with a snap.

“I’m afraid,” Bill drawled reluctantly, “We have a complication.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is "the long ride home" by patty griffin. take a listen!
> 
> i borrowed a scene from the true blood pilot at the end there with a bit of revisionist history. aka the only episode bill was ever hot in. pour one out for ugly bill. team eric til i die bb


	3. The Man Comes Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up, i'm earning my rating. blood and sex ahead, only some of it at the same time.

“You disappoint me, Bill.” Even through the phone, Bill could hear the acidity in Sophie-Anne’s voice. The complete and utter disdain.

“It doesn’t make sense, Your Majesty,” Bill protested, “I chained him down. I stayed with him until dawn. It is impossible for him to have lived.”

“And with all of your advantages, you have still failed. You knew he would be there. You knew he would be unarmed,” she said, sounding bored now. “This is the court I keep? Full of incompetency. A human with a silver bullet would have fared better. Well, it seems that if we cannot go through the Sheriff of Area Five, we will have to go around him.”

x

The murders started slowly at first and many thought they were accidental. A man stumbled upon a fellow construction worker on an early morning job site, his neck snapped in half after what appeared to be a large fall. Only, there was no significant height outcropping nearby for him to have fallen from. Then there were the two prostitutes, which were both naturally written off as a hazard of the job by the lackadaisical-at-best Bon Temps police force. They were found on the side of the road with nothing and no one nearby, with no discernable reason for them to be there in the first place. Then, Maudette Evans, Jason’s ex-girlfriend, was found strangled to death in her apartment. As the weeks fell away, the numbers grew to a rate at which even the state police couldn’t ignore.

Bon Temps became a veritable crime scene, but nothing changed. And no two murders were the same. Different victims, different causes, different locations. Not a single one died of a vampire bite, though the local church was petitioning otherwise. And though they had no evidence besides their inherent prejudices against the vampire community, Sookie, though she didn’t want to, couldn’t help but agree with them. She couldn’t help but think that these murders were occurring in concentric circles in which she was the common center. And, sooner or later, they would get to her. 

Physically, Sookie was drained. The same nightmare every night. Jason died every time. No matter what variable she tried to adjust, the result was always seeing his lifeless body slumped over on the porch, entirely drained of blood. She woke up every morning, sweating, her heart racing. She’d taken to leaving her window partly open at night to encourage the wind to cool her restless sleeps, but, still, nothing changed. 

Her shifts at Merlotte’s had also taken on a new tenor. She felt as though she had to relearn how to do her job, how to live in her community, how to have conversations and serve customers without wanting to rip her own brain out of her head. Everyone’s thoughts were so excruciatingly loud, she felt as though she had a jackhammer pounding into her forehead at any given moment. Especially when they were drunk, both their thoughts and their hands sloppier than ever. She found herself waiting--hoping--for the void, though she’d been very clear with Eric to leave her be. She hated him for respecting her wishes and loved him for respecting her wishes. It was also clear that Bill wasn’t returning, not after Eric’s arrogant display. Sam didn’t let her hear the end of that, either, of course. She even had to hold the door as he repaired it, grumbling about vampires under his breath all the while.

She waited for his attitude to change, but, if anything, it got worse. Especially when Merlotte’s delivery driver, Joe, was found dead at dawn in his pickup outside the bar after the late shift. No one had even heard him arrive, nonetheless die during the busiest time of the night. It was incomprehensible. He had been drained of blood but, once more, there were no bite marks. His neck, however, was snapped in two.

“This shit ain’t right,” Sam sighed, sitting across from Sookie and Jason behind the bar. It was just after 1:30, closing time for a small town like Bon Temps. They clinked their beer bottles together dispassionately, then took a sip. “I’ve never seen Bon Temps like this.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Jason comisserated. “Look, Maudette was a wild one, but she was a good girl. She shouldn’t’ve died like that.”

“No one should die like that,” Sookie sighed, rubbing her temples after another endlessly loud shift. 

“It’s kind of weird though, Sook...” Sam started cautiously, then stopped. 

“What’s weird?” she prompted, making eye contact in a challenge.

“Just that, you know, you saved that vamp in the woods and now all of a sudden…” he trailed off.

“This isn’t Eric,” she said flatly. That was the one thing she knew for certain in all this. It wasn’t Eric’s doing. She had no reason to know this, no character to build off, no proof of his morals. She just knew in her soul, and her soul was enough.

“You saved a vamp in the woods?” Jason asked loudly.

“You didn’t tell your brother?” Sam scoffed. 

Their thoughts chorused together in a mix of annoyance, anger, and incredulity. 

“Can y’all just quiet down?” she asked desperately, “I just need some quiet.”

Jason dropped his anger, looking at Sookie with concern and sympathy.

“You’re still not sleepin’, are you?” he asked, rubbing her shoulder with affection. 

“No,” she confessed. She knew she looked awful. Deep purple bags beneath her eyes, sallow, colorless cheeks, hair limp and dry. She was dropping weight, too, her Merlotte’s uniform loose around her waist and hips. She knew what it was she needed. She needed silence. She needed peace. And there was someone she could get it from, she just didn’t know if she could bring herself to do it. 

They walked out to their cars together, Jason leaning over the driver’s side door as Sookie slid into her Honda.

“Look, Sook,” he said. “I think you should stay with me at my place, it’s safer that way.”

“I’m not leavin’ Gran,” she said, crossing her arms stubbornly. 

“Fine, then I’ll go there. Just give me a couple days to gather my stuff,” he said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to hear it, I’m comin’.”

“Thanks, Jay,” she said. He shut her door, tapping on the window a couple times before sauntering back to his truck. 

She still couldn’t sleep. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom until the sky began to brighten outside her window, the breeze flowing through it warming as the hours ticked by. She didn’t work today, which was more of a curse than a blessing. While she enjoyed the relative quiet of her remote home, it left her alone with her own thoughts, which were oftentimes more destructive than others’. She worried for her town, for the increasing number of dead. She worried for Sam, Jason, Gran. Would they be next? She’d rather the mysterious murderer simply took her, though she had no guarantee the murders would even stop if that happened. She sat with Gran on the couch with the TV on low, the newscaster reading through the deaths of the last month, announcing that the police threatened to place Bon Temps in a state of emergency. At some point in the late afternoon glow she fell asleep, curled up on the floral print couch. 

She woke again with a start at Jason’s death, staring around her at the now-empty living room. The sun was just dropping down over the horizon. She’d slept for an hour, if she could call it sleep at all. She was fraying at the edges; she couldn’t go on like this. She threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, unthinking, and pulled out of her driveway so fast her tires screeched.

x

Fangtasia was just as busy as it was the last time she was here all those weeks ago. The line outside still hummed with anticipation, fear, lust. The trifecta of humanity, all blended up into one. She was even more underdressed than before, to the point where she worried that the impeccably dressed bouncer wouldn’t let her in. But the opposite happened. Before she could even get to the line, the bouncer abandoned the front door and zipped over to her.

“Oh, thank Satan,” she said, sounding more annoyed than relieved.

“Pardon?” 

“Eric has been an absolute fucking nightmare. I’m not even sure he’s out tonight. Come,” she said, turning on her black pump with ease, already walking to the front of the club. She opened the heavy, red door for Sookie, practically pushing her inside. “If he’s not up there, come back and get me and I’ll find him. These fangbangers can wait. By the way, I’m Pam. And you’re Sookie. You smell great, but I won’t bite you. Nice to officially meet, blah blah blah.”

Then she shut the door in Sookie’s face. 

“Okay…” Sookie mumbled under her breath, weaving her way into the club. Once again, she was assaulted by the sheer volume of the place. She had to fight her natural instinct to cover her ears with her palms, despite knowing full well that it wouldn’t quiet things down anyway. She dodged vampires and humans alike, pushing her way through the layers of black leather until she saw him, raised up on the dais just like the last time. His eyes were closed. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought him asleep. He was perfectly still, leather jacket tight on his shoulders as he hunched over, elbows resting on his knees. His hair hung a bit longer over his forehead, not slicked back like last time. She recognized the shadows under his eyes. They matched hers.

She stood watching him from a few feet away, still in the throbbing crowd. He moved barely, almost imperceptibly, his chest inflating with a slow, heavy inhale, eyes still closed. His mouth quirked into the slightest of smiles, just for a moment, before it dropped into a scowl and he shook his head abruptly. She moved closer then, wondering how long it would take for him to open his eyes. If he ever would. When she was about to reach him, she was intercepted.

The vampire had shortly cropped black hair and piercings in his eyebrow, nose, lips. He grinned, flashed his fangs.

“You smell awfully delicious,” the vampire crooned. Before she could respond, he was on the floor, Eric towering over him with his own fangs bared. But unlike at Merlotte’s, Eric didn’t pursue the threat. He retracted his fangs and turned to Sookie, holding out his hand to her. She took it, immediately embraced by the silence, and followed him out of the main club and into a back corridor. He moved quickly, with purpose, and she struggled to keep up. He turned a corner and pushed her into what must’ve been his back office, shutting the door behind him. He pulled his hand away and she was hit again with the thoughts of the bar like a punch to the gut. She winced, but tried to smooth out her expression before he would notice. She failed.

“You aren’t sleeping,” he said sternly.

“Have you heard about the murders?” she asked.

“Of course,” he responded, walking back to his chair behind his desk, sitting down. “Come here,” he said, followed after a beat by a soft, “Please.”

She walked slowly over to him, directed by a force seemingly greater than her own. She wavered with herself, the usual gravitational question, succumb or leave? Orbit or drift? When she got close enough, he took her choice away, pulling her down and onto his lap. Immediate silence. Her eyes fluttered, grateful for it. Grateful for all of it. She rested her head on his shoulder, exhaustion settling over her body, the comfortable pressure of deep water, the inevitability of drowning. He wrapped one arm beneath her legs, pulling them up over his lap, the other threaded through her hair as he was wont to do, pressing her face down into his jacket. She felt his warm breath exhaling slowly above her head and she wondered if his eyes were closed, too.

“What happens,” he asked, breaking the silence, “when you touch me?”

“It goes quiet,” she confessed, delirious.

“What goes quiet?”

“Everything,” she breathed, tumbling forward into sleep.

She was stiff when she awoke, her throat dry and her bones popping. She was contorted in a strange position, halfway sat up, knees near her chest, disoriented. She opened her eyes slowly, realizing that for the first time in a very long time she’d managed to sleep without having a nightmare. 

“Good morning,” Eric’s voice came from above her head, his hand combing out her hair in almost animalistic proclivity. She blinked up at him, only halfway understanding how she got to where she was. She remembered being at her home, driving a bit, walking through Fangtasia. It was spotty, but lack of sleep would do that to a person. Then she noticed the blood.

“You’re bleeding,” she pointed out, nearly reaching up to touch the redness leaking from his ears.

“I’m not meant to be awake at this time,” he said calmly. 

“What time is it?” she asked, frantically scrambling off his lap. He let her go, his arms dropping to the chair’s armrests, checking his watch with bored slowness. 

“Almost 10am,” he answered.

“Crap, crap, crap,” she said combing her fingers through her hair and straightening her shirt. “I’m on lunch shift and it takes an hour to get back to Bon Temps.” He watched her chaotic movements with a passive, near stony expression, as if waiting for a puppy to tire itself out. She looked around for her purse, finding it inexplicably dropped on the ground beneath her feet. She draped it over her shoulder and moved to leave before realizing she had no idea how to get out of this part of Fangtasia.

“Take the first right, then it’s through the double doors,” Eric said, monotone. 

“Thanks,” she said, moving through the office door. 

“Oh, and Sookie?” 

She stopped, leaning back into the office expectantly.

“I’m coming over tonight,” he said with no room for discussion. She tamped down her immediate, gut response to deny his pompous proclamation, given that he’d just provided her the one thing she’d desperately needed over the past few weeks: uninterrupted sleep.

“Okay… Sheriff,” she said, closing the door on his small smile. 

x

She found the body on her drive home from Merlotte’s just after sunset. Its legs were halfway in the road, the other half of the body out. It was sliding into the embankment like a melted popsicle. It was also on the same back stretch she’d found Eric, which immediately put warning bells in her head. This body was placed; it had to be. No one frequented this road besides her and sometimes Sam. It was remote, unpaved. And unless Sam was the murderer, which would be physically impossible, then someone was toying with her. She pulled her car over and stepped out, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. The cicadas were loud, but when she got close to the body the flies were louder. It was rotting. This one had been dead for awhile, but it wasn’t on the road when she drove to work. 

She looked around her, suddenly hyper-aware that there was a strong possibility she was being watched. The night was tinted a deep blue, not yet pitch. The moon winked at her through the trees, only just beginning its slow ascent. There was a gentle, cooling wind that made the leaves of the trees breathe gentle inhales, exhales. She didn’t recognize the man on the road, his carcass so dilapidated it looked more like a movie prop than the real thing. She saw no physical injuries, but his eyes were open. Empty. Blank. Lifeless. She found herself sitting down, feeling a perverse need to give the corpse company. 

“Who did this to you?” she asked the corpse, the silence. “Was it a vampire?”

An owl responded with a sullen, distant hoot. Its yellow eyes shone down at her from a high branch in a tree opposite: quizzical, curious. She stared up at it in wordless conversation, an exchange of sympathies. It fluttered its wings, shuffling on the branch, then flew away as if startled. She looked to her left to find Eric standing beside her, his boots crunching in the gravel as he walked up to the corpse. She knew she should ask him where he appeared from, but she was too busy watching his lean form approach the dead body like a homing missile. He leaned down, inhaling slowly, feral. 

“They kept the bodies from me,” he spoke conversationally to Sookie while still examining the corpse. “Out after dawn. Human help, I assume. This is sloppy.” He leaned forward. “Or… cocky. Hubris.” His lips curled in a snarl. He inhaled one more time, entirely unfazed by the rotting corpse, his nostrils flaring in recognition. “I know who did this. Don’t call the police. Leave the body, I will take care of it.”

He looked at her for a long moment then shot up into the sky, disappearing, graceful yet volatile, no need for the wings of an owl.

Sookie watched the corpse dissolve into the darkness from her rearview mirror, the red glow of her tail lights casting an eerie final scene. Gran was already well on her way to sleep by the time she got home. Half of Jason’s stuff was dumped haphazardly on the floor of the entrance and she tripped over it as she made her way to the kitchen. 

“He’s comin’ by later with the rest of it,” Gran explained to Sookie, sipping on some warm milk in a mug. “Wants to move home for awhile, what with all the craziness that’s been happenin’ here in Bon Temps. What a good boy.”

“Night, Gran.” Sookie gave her a quick hug.

“You look better today, sweet girl. I’m glad you’re sleepin’ again,” she said, trudging her way up the stairs. 

“Me too.”

She took a shower while she waited for Eric to get there, letting her skin turn a bright pink under the scalding hot water. She didn’t know what she wanted upon his arrival, either physically or mentally. She felt herself lost at sea with no discernable harbor or even a direction to point her bow. She paddled in circles, spinning, slapped on each side by white-capped waves, surrendering herself to the tumult. If he took care of the murderer, her problems must end. It was the assumption she had to make. He was out there, somewhere, but more than anything she wanted him at home with her. The sudden, powerful certainty nearly knocked her off her feet in the tub. She wanted the safety she felt when she was near him. She wanted his peace. She wanted his calm, yet playful demeanor. She wanted his touch. She wanted him. 

She felt her heart rate increase involuntarily, turning off the water and wrapping herself in a robe, toweling her hair but leaving it damp. When she walked downstairs he was already waiting for her outside, lounging against the wooden porch beam, waiting to be invited in. She threw the door open, bathing him in the yellow light of the kitchen. He gazed at her, examination without expectation, and stepped forward when it seemed he found what he needed in her expression.

“Eric Northman,” she breathed, “Will you please come in?”

He stepped through the threshold and took her in his arms, enveloping her completely, his fingers playing with the wet tips of her hair as she acclimated herself to his presence. She felt him press his cheek to the top of her head, learning the positions he liked, his repeated gestures. He liked to cradle, to encompass, to surround. He liked an all-over physical touch of every body part. He liked gentle pressure; he liked to feel the magnetic push. He hated the pull. She heard him inhale slowly, his fingers moving to run down her spine. 

“Wheat. Honey. Sunshine,” he mumbled. She pulled back slightly to gaze up at his face, noticing again the deep cut shadows beneath his eyes. He looked pale, too. Even for a vampire. Sallow cheeks, fine lines at the corners of his lips. 

“You look different,” she said, remembering their first real encounter in the storage room at Merlotte’s. Even beneath the chains, he was radiant. Vibrant. Nearly human.

“I have not fed for a short while,” he explained, tucking her hair behind both ears. “But I am very old, as you said, so it is doable.”

“How long?” she asked, concerned and ignoring his playful jab.

“Hm,” he pretended to think, smiling slightly for her benefit. “Besides a bit of the synthetic excuse for blood at the bar with you, I believe it was in a certain basement that smelled an awful lot like wet dog.”

She tried to understand. _The last time he’d fed was from her?_

“Eric, that was weeks ago,” she said, searching his eyes for an explanation.

“I wanted no one else,” he responded emphatically without even a hint of humor. He gazed at her, imploring her to understand. Her lips parted, taken aback by the gravity of his words. She wanted to give him what he wanted. Suddenly, that was the only thing that mattered. She tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to him, still moist and pink from the shower, a throbbing artery pulsing against the skin. His eyes dragged to the spot, gaze full with longing. He leaned over slowly and she braced, expecting the bite. Instead, his lips brushed along her skin and up to her jaw, cheek, hovering over her lips.

“Not yet,” he whispered. 

She felt a rush of wind as he lifted her, shooting up the stairs and into her room, depositing her on the sheets in a flurry of fabric. She laughed, her hair falling into disarray as he crawled over her, his jacket and shoes dropping to the floor. He covered her mouth with his hand playfully, scolding her to quiet down. They weren’t the only two in the house, after all. He pulled back, hands hovering over the tie to her robe, looking up to her face for permission. She nodded, watching beneath heavy lids as he unwrapped her like a gift, using his large palms to slide the fabric off, a low groan falling from his lips to find her nude before him, revealing the rare pearl. She pulled at his black shirt in response and he removed it with barely controlled speed. It was as though he had miles of torso, but he was still too far away. She grabbed the necklace dangling from his neck, and he allowed himself to be pulled, allowed himself to be desired, and finally, finally their lips properly met. 

At first, he was almost tentative, until her lips responded fire. She tore into him, an oasis in the desert, a luxury to be bathed in. Her tongue reached out to meet his, her fingernails trailing red paths down his back that healed moments later, his hands cradling her head on either side, kissing, pulling back, gazing, repeating. His lips travelled south, beneath her neck to her breasts, her stomach, her navel, until she was bucking wildly against him and he was holding her down in just the right way, the exacting nature of expertise, the precision of practice. Her nerve endings were on fire, fingers clenched into his hair as he worked, bringing her so, so close, until she was begging for him.

“Eric,” she cried softly, tears of pleasure welling up in her eyes. He looked up at his name and she noticed his fangs had dropped. She hadn’t even heard the click. She tugged on his hair; she needed him inside her, blind with want. He unzipped his pants, moving up until he hovered before her and she felt the tip of him, testing. His forearms framed her face, holding himself above her, poised and ready until she consented once more. She nodded, grasping his shoulders with sweaty palms as he sunk into her slowly, his face dropping to hers, both of their mouths open wide in silent cry, his fangs pricking her lips as she breathed. They exhaled together and she wrapped her arms fully around his neck, begging him to move. He pulled out and slammed back in with a grunt; her back arched, a grimace on her face.

“Does it hurt?” he breathed, stilling, though his muscles twitched with restraint.

“Keep going,” she said, not quite answering his question. He sped up and she clung to him like a life preserver, pressing her forehead to his while he moved. His face tensed in concentration, a pleasure so severe it closed in on pain. 

“Now,” Sookie ordered with a confidence that surprised them both, tilting her head to the left and exposing her neck. He held her hair back with one giant palm and bit, clutching her to him, thrusting erratically, a primal groan at the base of his throat as she came, crying out to him, desperation and pure, unfiltered desire flooding her every cell. He followed shortly after, releasing her neck with a growl, her blood dripping down his fangs, lips, chin. 

She curled into him, breathing heavily, cheeks glowing, temples dripping with sweat. Like in the basement, he pricked his fingertip, rubbing circles into the bite mark. Unlike the basement, he leaned down, lapping up the excess blood with his tongue, then moving to her face and licking the salty sweat, up her jaw and ear, and down where it pooled at her collarbones. It was these moments--when Eric’s most primal, vampiric tendencies came to surface--that she loved and feared him the most. He worshipped her this way, with the aching tenderness of his care, his touch saying what his words did not. They let their breathing slow into a steady, synched rhythm. He stared up at the ceiling, running his fingertips over her hair and neck absently, subconsciously. 

“I ripped your pillow,” he confessed, breaking the silence. 

“You what?” she laughed, propping herself up on her elbows to take in the damage. Sure enough, her pillow was torn to shreds, feathers leaking out onto the mattress and floor. “Okay, yeah, you ripped my pillow.”

He smiled cheekily at her, boyish and naughty; juxtaposed with her blood still dripping down his chin it was quite the picture. Her mood sobered abruptly as she was struck once more with the desire to reciprocate his form of affection. She leaned over him as he watched with curious eyes, dipping her head down to lick up the blood on his face, languid and slow. He gripped her hips a little too tightly, groaning, and she imagined small, oval shaped bruises forming on her skin. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered, gazing up at her in wonder.

“Last I checked you were already dead,” she smirked.

“Touché,” he said, catching her before she moved too far away. “Sookie,” he said, suddenly turning the conversation on its axis. “I know who killed that man tonight, but I wasn’t able to reach him. That was bait and he counted on me pursuing him and leaving you alone. I… defied that. But he is still alive.”

“Who is it?” she asked, still perched atop his chest.

He didn’t want to tell her. 

“Why won’t you tell me?” she asked instead after a moment’s silence.

“Because I don’t want it to taint your trust in me,” he said honestly. “And because I will take care of it.” She could tell then that he’d decided. She wasn’t going to get the answer out of him. “But,” he continued, “Just in case, I want to offer you something.”

“Offer me what?”

Instead of answering, he dropped his fangs, bringing his own hand to his mouth and biting down with a grunt. He pulled his hand away, palm facing her, two small red wounds on the skin’s surface where they punctured. She looked at his hand, then back to his face, his fangs still bared.

“Drink,” he ordered, emphatic. “And I will feel you. And I will protect you. And you will be mine.” There was an irrepressible fire in his eyes. She could see the want there, more brightly than she’d seen all night. He might as well be on his hands and knees, he was so clearly begging for her to do this. She felt fear in her gut then. Not of him, but of the unknown. Of committing herself so fully. The magnetic dance, a tilt shift. His eyes burned into hers; he wasn’t breathing, his desperation held tight. He was waiting on the mountaintop for the gust of wind. 

She pressed her lips to his palm, shocked by the indescribable sweetness of his blood. Immediately, he clutched her with his other arm, dragging her into his lap, cradling her as she drank. He was moaning, his eyes rolling up in that same curious mixture of pleasure and pain that she was coming to know so well. It was an immediate addiction. He was an immediate addiction. Her hands wrapped around his palm and wrist, trying desperately to get him to become even closer still. Somehow, it still wasn’t close enough. She had the conscious thought of being inside his skin, of inhabiting him fully, of living entirely off of him as he now did her. She understood, then, the necessary eroticism of the transfer of blood. Why he waited for her to feed. Why it mattered. It ended up being Eric that pulled her away; that and his rapidly-healing skin’s attempts to close over the wounds. 

“That’s enough, min ängel,” he said quietly, stroking her hair with half-lidded eyes. She kissed him then, the blood intermingling in their mouths, sticky and metallic. She touched his fangs with her tongue, gazing at him in unabashed wonder. She was euphoric. His blood was a miracle. He felt her euphoria course through his own body, a spike of adrenaline that made him want her again and again and again. 

They made love once more and it was unbearable. Each touch reverberated between them, pleasure shared in exponential growth. Every taste was a spark of lightning, the exchange an immediate thunder without delay. Tears leaked from her eyes that only he felt, kissing them before they could properly fall. They showered together, washing away the blood and sweat, him pulling her to his chest as always, massaging the suds through her hair, not close enough, never close enough. 

“Does it always feel like this?” she asked, warm water she could hardly notice running down her body. 

He looked at her with something akin to sadness and shook his head, kissing her chastely, nuzzling her face with his own, leaving it there to tamper down his own emotions without observation. Oblivious, Sookie wrapped her arms around his back, clutching so tightly her knuckles turned white. They stood that way until water ran cold, until Sookie started to shiver. Eric wrapped her in a towel, darting back to the haven of her room, so disheveled it looked as though a tornado had run its course straight through the bed. 

They were quiet, Sookie curled around Eric, cradling his head to her chest as he listened to the slow and steady beat of her heart. She would’ve thought him meditating had he not started to speak:

“What are you?” he asked into her stomach, listening as her heart rate picked up at the question. The sheer importance of those three simple words. No one knew the truth. No one could know. It was too dangerous, being different. Especially in Bon Temps. 

“I don’t know.” And that much was true. She didn’t know. There was never a time in her life in which she felt really and truly seen, really and truly understood. Was this her opportunity to change that? Would she ever get another?

“I can feel your uncertainty,” he said, gripping her thigh with his hand, nearly wrapping around half of it with ease. 

“I’m uncertain.”

He tilted his head up to make eye contact with her then, the blue as vibrant as she’d ever seen. His cheeks were nearly pink, his blond hair wild. She had a sudden flashback of him laying in the sunny field of wildflowers. Alone. Burning. A tragedy she hadn’t understood the magnitude of at the time, the stakes with which she was playing to save him. Life. Death. Peace. Pain. A stack of cards all shuffled up into a singular deck.

“I can read minds,” she confessed. Now, there was nothing between them. Her most sacred secret, out in the open. She watched as a series of emotions flickered across his face in a millisecond: disbelief, fear, guilt, awe.

“Can you read my mind?” he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

“No,” she answered. “No, only humans. You’re like… a void. All vampires are. And when I touch you, all that noise, all those thoughts all around me, they just disappear. It’s the only peace I’ve ever felt in my whole life. It’s incredible.” She was gushing now, never before able to speak so freely. She had a flash of fear in her gut, a stone cold worry that she’d just made a grave mistake.

“You have nothing to fear,” he assured her, sensing her emotions. “Not from me.” He paused, staring up at her again, seeming to contemplate the immensity of it all. “A telepath,” he nearly laughed. “As I live and breathe.”

“I hate to keep remindin’ you of this, buddy…” she smiled, trailing off.

“Hey, I’m breathing.”

“Yeah, but you don’t _need_ to.”

“Semantics,” he grinned cheekily. “And you have feathers in your hair.”

“And whose fault is that?” she asked playfully, trying to thread them out with her fingers. Before she could finish, he pushed her back down onto the pile of feathers and kissed her until dawn.

x

“What’s good,” Arlene was saying, “is that they ain’t found a body in almost two weeks. Maybe that guy, whoever he is ‘cause you damn well _know_ it’s a guy, ain’t no female serial killers after all, anyway, maybe that guy got bored and moved on to another town. Someplace that’s got better food, like New Orleans.” 

“And what is wrong with our food?” Sam asked, handing a platter of orders over to Arlene so she could take them to her tables. Each was some variation of fried, from burgers to chips to onion rings. 

“Nothin’, Sam,” Arlene drawled, “Absolutely nothin’.”

She threw a wink at Sookie as she passed, making her way over to the rowdy group of little leaguers with their dads in the far booths. Sookie grabbed a fry from the order up station and popped it in her mouth, tasting first salt followed quickly by grease. She smiled anyway, accepting the two pints of beer Sam was filling up for her.

“I think the food’s great, Sam,” she grinned, spinning on her heel. He followed her as she passed out the pints.

“You seem different,” he said, subtly sniffing her hair, “and you smell different.”

“Sam Merlotte, are you sniffin’ me like a dog?” she asked. He shrugged sheepishly.

“I’m just sayin’ you’ve got a different type of smell. New perfume or somethin’?”

“Unless you’re countin’ the smell of fried food and grease as perfume, Sam, no,” she said, moving back behind the bar to clock out. Her shift was officially over and the sun would be setting in a few hours. She felt her anticipation growing with every passing moment. She’d wear her best white dress, maybe do her hair a bit. Plus, the evening was fixing to be beautifully tepid: not too hot, not too cold. And what Arlene was saying was right, the murders had completely left the news cycle. No new deaths in weeks. Sookie knew that Eric hadn’t yet taken care of it--he would’ve told her, especially given how cautious he’d been lately about her safety--but perhaps the situation simply took care of itself. She liked that option better anyway.

At home, Sookie washed off the fried food and grease perfume, taking extra time with her appearance. Over the weeks, Eric had been feeding Sookie more and more of his blood, little by little. Each morning she awoke with a stronger tether to him. She felt it, a fishing line, secure and clean and hooked on both ends. Even while he slept she felt a thrum within her, a presence to remind her of him. He spent most nights at Sookie’s if he wasn’t obligated to stay at Fangtasia. Sometimes, Sookie would go to him, but Pam was starting to get sick of Eric neglecting his duties inside the club, too, so she backed off a bit. She hadn’t seen him in a couple of nights because of his duties there and she was more than looking forward to their reunion.

In the kitchen, her gran was hard at work. Sookie walked around her, dipping a finger into the bowl of sweet, tangy apple pie filler, scooping some into her mouth.

“Sookie Stackhouse!” Gran scolded, slapping her hand with a wooden spoon. “You will wait until this pie is done before you eat. Absolutely no manners.”

“Sorry, Gran,” Sookie grinned, popping outside to catch the last of the sunset. It was a truly gorgeous one, all pinks and reds, yellows and oranges. The cicadas’ chorus grew stronger as the sun dropped lower. Out at the end of the road, Jason worked on his truck, the new girl he was seeing lounging out the driver’s side window as they flirted. Sookie took a seat on the porch swing, awaiting Eric’s arrival. He likely wouldn’t appear until after Gran and Jason went to bed; he wasn’t ready for those conversations just yet, he’d confessed. She suggested he continue to work on his gratitude. 

“Jason!” Sookie called, beckoning him over. 

“How’re ya doin’, Sook?” he asked. “The long shifts at Merlotte’s gettin’ you down any?”

“Can’t be worse than that road work you’ve been doin’, Jay,” she said, shoving his shoulder playfully as he sat beside her on the swing.

“Think I’m gonna be promoted soon,” he grinned cheerily, clearly proud of himself. “Been puttin’ in the hours.”

“That’s great, I’m proud of you,” Sookie said genuinely, content to throw an arm around his shoulders. They sat for a few moments, Jason using the heels of his work boots to gently rock them back and forth. Jason’s girlfriend said she needed to leave, her dad had put her on curfew because of the murders. Sookie meant to question Jason on what exactly his girlfriend’s age was, but decided not to. She’d jump on him about it some other time. Not on a night as peaceful as this. As Sookie watched the last of the sun dip down below the horizon, she felt a stomach clenching sense that she’d done this before. Been here before. Lived this moment before.

“We should get you inside. Ain’t safe out here in Bon Temps after the sun sets. Not after you saved that vamp,” Jason said, standing and holding out his hand.

Sookie bristled, unwilling to take it.

“It has nothing to do with that vampire,” she said crossly. “He’s been helpin’ more than you even know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked, growing loud in his anger. “Are you tellin’ me we got a vamp hangin’ around out here?”

Before Sookie could answer, a dark figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere, reaching behind Jason and pulling him into the shadows with surprising force. Jason, muscled and strong, fought back to no avail.

“You do, actually,” the figure said in a soft Southern drawl, “just not the one Miss Stackhouse is referrin’ to.”

Sookie recognized that voice. It was Bill. Bill Compton. She thought he’d skipped down ages ago after the incident at Merlotte’s. He was looking rather worse for wear, his suit ripped and torn at the edges, his skin covered in what looked to be a thin layer of dirt. He had dried blood on his face, his eyes hooded with shadow. She could hear Jason’s panicked thoughts, fear speeding them up to a stream of consciousness.

_I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please oh please, I don’t wanna die_

Bill’s fangs edged closer and closer to Jason’s neck. Soon it would be over.

“Bill?” Sookie gasped, trying to distract him, “What on Earth are you doin’ here?”

“I never left, Sweetheart,” he smiled without emotion. 

“Have you been killin’ all of these innocent people?” she asked desperately.

“No person is truly innocent,” he said, not fully answering her question. “Not even you, darlin’.”

She felt her hackles rise, adrenaline and anger pumping through her veins. It was potent. Eric would feel it. 

“Have you?” she asked again as Bill gripped Jason tighter still.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, “I am but a weary soldier, followin’ the orders of my command.”

“Please,” Sookie stepped forward, causing Bill to lurch. “Let him go. Take me instead.” 

“Sookie, don’t--” Jason protested. She cut him off with a pointed glare. 

Bill inhaled, smelling the air, seeming to consider her proposition. He moved a bit closer with Jason in tow, examining the trade. 

“No,” Bill said, stopping himself. “No, those are not my orders. Say goodbye to your brother, please, Miss Stackhouse.”

“Please, please don’t kill him,” she cried with real tears in her eyes now, dropping to her knees. “I’ll do anythin’.”

“That’s what we were countin’ on,” Bill smiled, then sunk his teeth into Jason’s neck. Gran came running out at Sookie’s scream, Jason struggling in futility against the strength of the vampire. They watched helplessly as blood gushed from his neck, Jason’s eyes drooping, rapidly losing consciousness, extremities twitching lifelessly. 

“Please.” Her voice now hollow, spoken to no one but herself.

She heard a sickening crunch and a clatter, Jason’s body dropping to the ground. But it wasn’t Jason’s neck that had broken. It was Bill’s. Eric lurched with Bill off of the porch, the movements of their fight a blur to Sookie’s eyes. Suddenly, they froze, Eric holding Bill against a tree, his other hand poised to strike with a wooden stake, fangs out.

“No silver this time?” Eric growled. “An oversight.”

Bill didn’t answer. Instead, he looked skyward.

“Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name--”

Eric plunged the stake into his chest. Bill dissolved instantly, a pile of blood and guts.

“There will be no prayers for the damned,” he spat, looking down, his shoes covered in Bill. “And now I need new shoes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how it said three chapters in the summary? it says four now. funny how that happens!  
> id love any comments xoxo


	4. The Only Thing

Eric’s eyes stood out the most. They burned: a fire, a hunger, an ecstasy of power. She felt the echoes of his endorphins in her own body, how they whirled inside him, how every muscle of his body felt lit up. Alive. She’d seen this look before, but it was rare, fleeting. A barely there imprint as her mouth sucked his blood. Him, gazing down at her: loving but terrifying. It was the same exultant hunger. The thrill of a captured hunt. It was foreign. Inhuman. How both tenderness and evil lived within him, two sides of the same coin. How she didn’t know which side landed up. Heads? Or tails?

Bill’s blood dripped down Eric’s jeans and boots as he crouched before Jason’s body, turning him on his back, leaning forward and sniffing the congealing wound on his neck. Jason was limp and pale, but his chest rose and fell with life. He was struggling, but he was still there. Eric glanced first at Sookie, making eye contact while he tore a bite into his own forearm, placing it above Jason’s mouth. Sookie crawled over, grasping Jason’s hand in both of hers as he instantly latched himself to Eric’s skin. Eric leaned over a bit with a grunt, allowing him to drink for only a few moments before pushing him back.

“Eric, he needs more,” Sookie said, Jason still delirious at her feet. It was barely a taste in comparison to what he fed Sookie on a near nightly basis. 

“No,” Eric disagreed. “That is enough.” Jason’s eyes flickered open as if proving Eric’s point on command. He looked around wildly, then threw his hand up to his neck where the wound was healing. Before Jason could even say anything, Eric wrapped both his palms around Jason’s face and leaned in close, until there was but a hair’s breadth of space between them. He tilted his head slightly, pupils dilating to huge, black saucers, his voice transforming to gentle and soft.

“You had a nice, uneventful night. You enjoyed the sunset, fixed your truck, and spent time with your sister. You met me and now you know that I do no harm. The day was long; you are desperately tired,” he crooned, a warped, tasteless warmth as he smoothed Jason’s hair back like a mother to a sick child.

Jason blinked, looking back and forth between Eric and Sookie, vacant and stripped raw.

“Man, I’m tired,” he said, “Think I might hit the hay, if y’all don’t mind.” 

“Jason!” Gran cried out, nearly forgotten in the corner of the porch. “You might need the hospital, we should call the police!” 

Eric’s eyes flashed and he turned his attention to her, repeating the calm, soothing eye contact until she melted before him, convinced whole-heartedly of her rewritten evening. Baking apple pie, spending time outside, watching the fireflies. The moon was bright. The night was warm. All was well, all was well. Gran and Jason left together, stumbling up the stairs in a trance without a care in the world. Only Sookie saw the true remnants: Jason’s blood on the porch, the wooden stake, Bill’s remains, if one could even call the puddle of sludge ‘remains.’ 

Eric swallowed, turning his attention to Sookie. She watched his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. The endorphins were gone. The triumphant glee from the kill, gone. She felt only faint tremors within him, fleeting feelings that whispered and dissolved. Then a cold, steel wall dropped into place and she felt nothing. Nothing at all.

“Sit with me?” he asked, pulling her to the porch swing. She eyed it, then him, warily. He sensed her unease, of course, and moved with delicate caution. Yet another whiplash in his outward expression. She started to question his truths, remembering Sam’s warning against Eric’s manipulation. Was it all a mask? Was he nothing but a cold-blooded killer mimicking a lover? They sat together and when his fingertips ran gently down her face, the action felt as pure and genuine as when those same hands thrust a stake into Bill’s chest without even a hint of remorse.

“You’re safe now,” he said, moving closer until she was nearly in his lap, tucking himself around her.

“Do you want to leave, then?” she asked into his shirt, her voice attempting monotone, an act at war with her inner tumult. He tilted her head up with his hands to make eye contact, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why would I want that?”

“Well, you no longer owe me,” she said, as if it were obvious, “There is no longer a debt.”

“I don’t want that,” he scoffed. “Never think it.”

She began to shake though it was not cold out. Little tremors, her body finding release from shock. He held her close to him, a tight grip, attempting to restrain her physical reaction, forcing obedience. Instead she shook more as if in defiance, staring out into the night, the stars blinking impassively back, impartial to everything that happened beneath them.

“Jason almost died,” Sookie whispered.

“Almost,” Eric agreed, palm on her back. She wondered how this tallied up in all the death he’d seen in his long existence. Probably but a blip on the radar. To her, it was everything. He shuffled beneath her, then spoke with command: “Look at me.”

She arched her neck to find his gaze wide and imploring, pupils encompassing the blue. She felt his void reach out. Hard, forceful. It made her lips purse, her own mind pushing back. He tucked her hair behind her ears before he spoke in the soothing, dulcet tones he’d just used on Jason and Gran.

“You had a nice night until I arrived, nothing of note—“

“Eric Northman are you trying to glamour me?” she interrupted angrily, pushing back from his chest. He blinked, his pupils shrinking to their normal width, lips open in surprise. “How fuckin’ dare you?” She couldn’t remember a time in her life in which she felt angrier. Profane anger at that. She stood up, leaving him sitting on the porch swing while he stared up at her in barely concealed shock. “I have half a mind to rescind your invitation.”

That moved him to action, standing to tower over her, holding his hands up in surrender. His fangs dropped at the same time, negating the passive action. His involuntary response was to force her not to rescind, that much was clear.

“I...” he started, then trailed off. In a thousand years of vampirism, this was one situation he had never encountered. No humans were immune to glamour. But no humans were telepaths, either.

“I don’t want to forget,” she shot back, acidic and raw. “Any of it.”

“I wanted to take the pain away,” he replied as if it were the obvious, natural thing to do.

“Pain is a part of life. It’s a part of my life. Without the bad there’s no good,” she said, her voice losing most of its power by the end. 

“Good, bad… These are human inventions. They are simply ideas.” He was dismissive, like he’d heard this argument many times before.

“Well, I’m human, if you remember,” she said, moving away to open the front door. Though it was still early, she was exhausted. 

“I remember,” he replied quietly, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment before searching out her face once more.

“I’m going to go to bed,” she said, glancing down at Jason’s blood one last time. She felt torn inside, longing for the tranquility of before, but at the same time no longer being able to imagine a life without Eric’s presence. 

“I will stay,” Eric announced, forceful as always. She met his eyes with hers, gazing into the blue. Though he hadn’t asked a question, she could tell he was awaiting her decision, waiting to see if she would turn him away. “I will stay,” he repeated, softer, when she didn’t. “I will stay.”

They climbed the stairs together and he helped her change into sweatpants and a T-shirt, moving her to her bed when she looked as though she was unsure about the next step of the process. He tucked the blankets up to her chin, then sat propped up beside her on top of the covers. He rested his palm against her face and left it there, cupping her jaw, blessing her with silence. She curled up on her side, staring at the notch in his belt, the amount of holes until the buckle, counting them, forward, backward, and forward again until she fell asleep.

x

Eric drifted after the incident with Bill. He arrived sparingly and often later in the evenings. She recognized the familiar orbit, the push and the pull. She could feel the tension under his skin, his uncertainty. After all, there was no one on their side. The humans didn’t like vampires hanging around--Jason was still a bit hesitant about the whole thing even after the glamour--and vampires weren’t exactly notorious for sticking with one person, especially if that person was human. Both Eric and Sookie were fighting their better instincts, and the more time they spent apart the more concrete it began to feel. 

When he didn’t come for the third night in a row, she knew he’d made his decision. She could feel the finality in her bones, echoing back from his own. They were too different. They were worlds apart. There was too much risk. It wasn’t going to work. These were her reasons, and she assumed his were the same. She spent her day stewing in anger at his cowardice, at his inability to come to her and tell her that it was over. After the sun set, she decided to take matters into her own hands, driving straight to Fangtasia. 

She underestimated how many people would be there on a Friday night. There were humans and vampires everywhere, spilling out into the parking lot and the road. She parked her car, her eye catching a glint of fang near a distant street lamp just before it sunk into the willing victim beneath it. She approached Pam at the front, immediately getting the usual verbal abuse about distracting Eric from his job.

“Pam,” Sookie said, holding up her hand, “Save it. Please.”

Pam looked at her quizzically, trying to deduce Sookie’s expresion.

“What are you doing here, Sookie?” she asked without the usual vehemence. She was suspicious.

“I’m here to see Eric.”

“What else is new,” she rolled her eyes skyward, “but for what purpose?”

The door to the club opened from the inside, Eric standing ominously, his form filling the threshold in his usual all-black attire. A few of the humans waiting in line looked up, starstruck.

“Oroa dig inte, min dotter,” he said to Pam, leaving space for Sookie to pass him. Out of habit, she hooked her pinky finger into his pointer in order to drive out the excess noise of the club. He looked down at her without expression, letting his hand stay. She could feel his confusion mixed with a bitter tang of fear. She’d never felt fear from him before. She didn’t like the taste; it made her shiver. He followed her lead to his back office, the crowd parting before them like the Red Sea. Something in their faces must’ve clued the other clubgoers into giving them a wide berth. Once they’d entered the office, Sookie removed her finger. He stared at his own empty hand, then moved his eyes to her face.

“I wish you would just do it,” she said, perching against his desk. “And stop drawin’ it out like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied in his carefully affected monotone. 

“I can feel you,” she spat, “I can feel that you’re pullin’ away from me.”

“To give you space.”

“Space from you? Or space for you?”

“Space from me.”

She could see his chest begin to rise and fall more rapidly, the anger tamped down inside him trying to fight its way out. His war fueled her own, and she pushed herself up into his space, recklessly determined to force his hand. He’d had centuries of guarding his emotions but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Not now at least. 

“What do you want, Eric Northman?” she asked, her head craning up to face him. His eyes flickered uneasily, but he maintained contact. “I don’t think you know. Do you?”

He swallowed, his fangs dropping, jaw clenching. 

“Don’t push me,” he warned.

“Or what?” 

He dipped his head to her at vampire speed, bypassing her lips and sinking his fangs into her neck, clutching her to him. She felt the floodgates of emotion within him open, suddenly awash over the both of them. The fear was sharper, it dipped into desperation. Lust. Anger. Affection. Back to fear. She pushed at his chest until he backed up, his fangs dripping. He’d never bitten her without express permission. He growled like he was trying to prove something, but there was no fire in his eyes. Only emptiness. Before she could think, she reached up and slapped him across the face. He took the blow, looking back at her impassively, the wall up once more. For the first time ever, he didn’t heal her wound, her neck slowly continuing to drip blood.

“If you won’t say it,” Sookie said, her eyes brimming, her cheeks flushed, “I will. Goodbye.” She turned on her heel to leave but he caught her at the door, suddenly in her path.

“Wait,” he said. She wondered then if he was going to convince her to stay. If he was going to tell her that her assumptions were wrong, that she was misunderstanding his feelings, that things were fine, that they were fine. Instead, he pricked his pointer finger with his fang, gently rubbing circles to close the wound on her neck. “It’s not safe out there, bleeding.”

Sookie pushed past him, diving into the waiting crowd of the club. The music was loud and the thoughts were louder. Even still, over all of that, she could hear a roar followed by the sound of physical harm, of objects breaking, of glass shattering. Pam darted past her toward the destruction as Sookie exited, not even sparing a final glance. She got in her car, her hand hovering over the keys without turning the ignition. She felt a surge of nausea, followed by a righteous anger mixed with desperate sorrow. 

She couldn’t tell if it was hers or his.

x

Two weeks and still no change. She felt him every day and every night. It was never less. It started affecting her work at Merlotte’s, especially the late shifts when he, too, was awake. She’d be taking an order and experience an entirely irrational surge of anger, so volatile she felt it all the way to her fingertips. Then there were the spikes of lust, during which she assumed he was feeding or… well, she didn’t want to think about that. But most common, and perhaps most devastating of all, was the apathy. The boredom. It was a constant presence at the back of her mind, threading through all of her other thoughts, worming its way to the foreground, overpowering. Her mind had always been a host for others’ thoughts and opinions, but now it felt she no longer had any room for herself left in there at all.

Sookie was on her second hour of a busy lunch shift. The tables were packed and she was covering two sections instead of one, using the constant busyness to push Eric’s passive, sleeping thrum to the background. She dropped off a few burgers then spun around, nearly colliding with Sam in the process. 

“Sorry, Sook,” he said, dodging her with two pints of beer. “Hard to keep up today.”

“Did Arlene even call in?” Sookie asked, peeved. She was meant to be waitressing today, too, but she’d never bothered to show up. Sookie could see customers staring daggers at her from across the bar, clearly impatient for their food.

“No, but I’m about to give her another call,” he said, then looked at the entrance. “Well, speak of the Devil.” 

Arlene stood at the door, no uniform, looking wide-eyed and confused. Like she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten to Merlotte’s at all. Her hair was disheveled and her makeup was not done. She was wearing a ratty pair of jeans and a t-shirt, all very unlike her. Sookie looked at her from across the crowds, watching as Arlene’s eyes whirled in their sockets, spinning and spinning until they landed on Sookie. She locked in then, moving with determination to where Sookie stood, stock still in the middle of the restaurant.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Sookie said when she was within earshot, grasping her arm and pulling her away from the prying ears and eyes. “My feet feel like they’re about to fall off with all this runnin’ about.”

“Sookie,” Arlene said solemnly, leaning in so she was only inches from Sookie’s face. “I have a message for Sookie.”

“Well, you found me,” Sookie laughed uneasily, attempting to back up but finding herself pressed into the wall separating the bar from the kitchen. She could feel the heat from the fryer on the back of her neck, the sizzle as food dropped into the hot oil. 

“The death of Bill Compton does not matter. The death of Bill Compton does not matter. The murders will keep coming. The murders will keep coming.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, with deadly accuracy. Each sentence said twice, like an automated message in the voicemail box. “Sookie will go to New Orleans. Sookie will go to New Orleans. Sookie will not tell. Sookie will not tell. Whoever she tells, will die. They will die. They will die.”

“Arlene,” Sookie said urgently, grasping both her arms, “Snap out of it, would you?”

“Do you understand?” Arlene asked with the same consistent, terrifying tenor. “Jason will die. Sam will die. Your gran will die. No one will be left. No one will be left. We will keep coming. The longer you wait, we will keep coming. Everyone you love will die. Do you understand?”

“That’s enough,” Sookie scolded, pushing into her mind with force. It was thick, foggy, difficult to wade through. Like Ginger’s. Like Jason’s. Like a hundred others’ at Fangtasia. This was the work of a vampire. This was glamour. Her heart clenched, worried she would find Eric here as she found him everywhere, in everything. Still, she pushed onwards, searching for the source. She didn’t recognize it when she found it. She was a vampire, that much was obvious. Shocking red hair, indescribable beauty, lips painted red and jewelry coated in diamonds. She was speaking very slowly, her face hazy up close, smooth yet grainy, like watching an old movie in cinemascope. It was mesmerizing; nearly impossible to look away.

“Do you understand?” Arlene’s voice asked again, interrupting the woman’s instructions and forcing Sookie from the vision. 

“I understand,” Sookie said quietly, letting go of Arlene’s forearms and severing the connection between them. Arlene nodded gravely and reached into her pocket, removing a sharpened kitchen knife and slowly raising it to her own throat. “Arlene, wait,” Sookie protested, lunging. But it was too late. Arlene dragged the sharpened blade across her skin, blood spurting as she slumped to the ground, bleeding out. Sookie backed up, pressing herself into the wall, paralyzed with shock, with fear. The back of her mind warbled, a void’s push, questioning, but she ignored it. 

A customer came back to use the restroom, her scream breaking Sookie from her frozen position. Sam came running, cataloguing the scene before him, grabbing Sookie and depositing her in the back office.

“Sam, she slit her throat,” Sookie said urgently as if he hadn’t seen Arlene’s body on the floor, knife in hand. “She reached up and--”

“Clean yourself up, I’ll be back,” Sam said, throwing her a dish towel. She was covered in Arlene’s blood; she hadn’t even realized. Instead of wiping it off, she clutched the dish towel tightly in both hands until her knuckles turned red then white. _They will keep coming. They will die. Tell no one. Do you understand?_ She didn’t know how long she sat there before Sam came back, stress in the corner of his eyes. “Hey, I’ve gotta go with the police to the station. I called Jason to pick you up. Stay here, okay?”

Sookie nodded slowly. _They will keep coming. Do you understand?_

She didn’t wait for Jason. Instead, she drove straight to Fangtasia for one last night. 

The sun was still up when she got there, the place deserted. Fangtasia in the daytime was almost laughable. It could be any other strip mall club, nondescript, a bit rundown. Even the door was less vibrant in the daytime, the sheen on the handle muted. She pushed on it but it didn’t budge, locked down until night. She settled herself down to wait, resting her back against the door, watching the cars zip past on the highway, the consistent woosh then quiet. She let her eyes drift closed as the sun fell before her, setting over the western trees. 

She dreamt of Jason. He was alive and in love. 

_They will keep coming. Everyone you love will die._

“Sookie?” 

The voice jolted her awake, Pam’s feet before her in three-inch stilettos. She knelt down to eye level, leaning in to sniff her clothing.

“You know you’re covered in blood.”

Sookie looked down at her Merlotte’s uniform, bleary-eyed, the speckles of Arlene’s blood now dry on the white t-shirt.

“It’s not mine,” Sookie said, her throat rough.

“Obviously,” Pam drawled, reaching out her hand to Sookie. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She took Sookie through the empty club to Eric’s office, sitting her down on the chair. She grimaced, remembering her last visit, reliving the moments she’d rather forget. Even though she knew Eric didn’t want her, she just needed to see him one last time. And then she would have the courage. He would give her the courage. Pam left and returned moments later with a black robe and a warm, damp cloth. She’d never pictured Pam as the tender type, this moment of compassion surprising her.

“Thanks,” Sookie said, wiping the blood from her arms.

“Don’t mention it,” Pam said. “And that’s an order. Never mention it. To anyone.”

Sookie nearly smiled at that. Pam left her alone again to change, knocking on the door a few minutes later. 

“I’m changed now, Pam,” Sookie said. But it wasn’t Pam who opened the door; it was Eric. They looked at each other from across the room, the silence so loud it roared in her ears like waves on a stormy surf. He betrayed no emotion, but his body was angled toward hers just slightly, wanting to move but held back by some invisible force. She felt her own face start to crack, breaking its impassive, stony veneer. That was all he needed, crouched before her so suddenly she had to blink to refocus. She grabbed his jacket, the familiar leather soft in her hands. His blue eyes burned as he reached out, pulling her to him, pressing the side of his face to hers, exhaling slowly. She wrapped herself around him, reveling in this moment, bittersweet in its finality. 

“You’re coming with me,” he said, picking her up, moving faster than she could comprehend, first out of the club and then up into the air. His arms locked her to him as she clutched his neck, tucking in close, unwilling to look around but feeling the cool wind push against her. They stopped with a jolt, Eric’s feet on the ground outside of a modern though relatively nondescript home. He placed her down gingerly next to him, gauging her stability before digging into his pocket for a set of jangling keys. 

“You live here?” she asked when he opened the door. He nodded, pressing her forward with a hand on her lower back. She was all mixed up, not intending to experience a first on her night of lasts. The space was made up of dark woods and deep colors, immaculate and entirely Eric in personality and style. He took her to a sitting room, placing her on a dark green velvet couch as he started a fire in the hearth, zipping around quickly but throwing constant glances in her direction as if afraid she would run. She did the opposite, resting her head on the back of the couch, watching his movements until he stilled before her once more. He kneeled on the ground, gazing up, looking for all the world like he didn’t know the next move to make. She reached out, grasping the back of his neck, her fingers weaving into his hair, pulling his head down into her lap. He followed her lead, resting his cheek against her thigh, wrapping his arms around her lower back as she stroked his hair, gentle and soothing. 

He let out a small noise, his eyes drifting closed, her own following when his peace leaked straight into her. The flames flickered as they stayed set in their positions, her on the couch and him curled around her legs, his knees still on the floor. 

“I love you,” he whispered into the silence. Her hands stilled, chest tightening. This wasn’t part of the script. He was meant to pity her, allow her some borrowed time. Then say goodbye. 

“What?” 

He didn’t look up, but clutched her to him tighter, the top of his head digging into her belly.

“I understand if you don’t love me. I treated you badly. I was scared of it, of the power you had over me, of how much I… wanted. From you. All the time. It was dangerous. It is dangerous. The last time with a human didn’t… I didn’t… it couldn’t…” He stopped speaking then. Abrupt. Choked. He was locked up, both physically and mentally. She restarted her gentle ministrations in his hair, giving him the time to reset, to relax into her. He exhaled, long and slow. “It can be different this time.” She felt his doubt, his hope. “It has to be.”

She reached down beneath his chin and tugged, revealing his face to her. There was a single trail of blood from his left bloodshot eye down his cheek. She licked her thumb, wiping it away, then popping it in her mouth to taste him. He tracked her movements, pulling her thumb out of her mouth, kissing her instead. She hadn’t forgotten the feel of his lips, cool and smooth, yet needy. Wanting. Unmatched strength locked behind steel bars of caution. A predator sympathetic toward its prey. She felt the love in him then, pouring outwards through each touch, his fingertips feather light down her face, his lips barely allowing her much-needed air. She gasped for it, pushing back on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the moment. 

_Everyone you love will die._

“You feel sadness,” he said against her lips, brow pursed.

“I just missed you, is all,” she lied, grabbing him tighter, yanking to the point of distraction. He didn’t question it, perhaps due to his own desperation, his own desire to feel any type of reciprocation to his admission. An unknowing accomplice to her fiction.

He joined her on the couch and she climbed atop him, gazing down into his eyes. He held her hair back, reaching toward her with his entire body, with his whole being. When she met him in the middle he sighed, wrapping his hand around the knot of her robe and pulling her in. She bit his lip roughly, causing his fangs to drop with a snarl, heavy breathing and eyes flashing. He gripped her neck, holding her in place, unzipping his pants, using his fangs to pierce his own lip, thick blood oozing down his chin. She licked it up and stayed, sucking his lip into her mouth, feeling his blood slide down her throat, silky and smooth and forever. 

She cried out when he sunk into her, so familiar and right and the culmination of blind faith. She understood, now. The hardest part wouldn’t be dying. It would be leaving him to do it. It would be lying to him, loving him, and leaving him. His eyes rolled up, searching for her, wanting the connection she was too overwhelmed to give, instead tucking her face into his neck before giving into her emotions, desperately grasping him, the only solid thing in the storm. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, gasps between his movements, “I will fix it. I can fix it.”

He was cutting up pieces of himself before he even knew what he was offering, delivering them to her on the silver platter that burned his skin. 

She kissed him while he came, brushing away the tear that fell before he’d notice it. He gathered her to him, stroking her back and arms, nuzzling his face into hers, giving into his inner animal. She held onto him tightly, wrapping his shirt around her fists, digging into him, burying herself in his skin. He didn’t speak, but he did hum. Something ancient and soothing. A mournful melody, a thousand years old, lost to time. 

x

When she awoke the next morning he was gone. She was wrapped in a blanket, still wearing the robe from Fangtasia, her hair wild, her cheek creased from the pillow. She gazed around Eric’s house in the daylight, a story of dichotomies. The gentle light filtering in seemed to invade his space like a foreign enemy, the bright fighting the dark. The coals in the fire still glowed red from the night before, though the flames were gone. Her eyes landed on a piece of paper resting on the coffee table, a sloping “S” on the front. She opened it to read his handwriting, short but sweet.

_Stay here today. Buy whatever you need from the store. The keys to the Corvette are near the door. I’ll see you tonight. E x_

She stalled. First by using his shower, then by wandering his home. She could feel his presence beneath her, likely in some light proof room to spend the day. His house was simple and functional. The kitchen had no food, of course. There were no photos, no personal touches. There was a bedroom, though she knew it wasn’t used for sleeping. In the dresser, she found a black t-shirt and jeans she was able to cuff several times, a belt holding it to her waist. She didn’t have any other choice given that her bloodied Merlotte’s uniform still sat on the floor of Eric’s office back at Fangtasia. His clothes smelled like him: crisp and cool. She breathed it in.

Sure enough, the keys and a heavy, black credit card sat on a small table by the front door. She eyed them both, picking up the keys but leaving the card. She wouldn’t need that where she was going. She settled into the Corvette, moving the seat forward a foot just to reach the wheel. The drive to New Orleans was a long one. She didn’t know what awaited her, but she was pretty sure she would find out before sundown.

She arrived downtown just as the sun was setting, the lights of the city glowing all around her in replacement. It was boisterous here, loud, so different from what she was used to in Bon Temps. She parked the car in a side alley and stepped out into the crowd of the French Quarter, dripping with hanging plants, sweethearts smiling, the distant wail of jazz. She hadn’t been here since she was a young girl with her parents, with Jason. Everything felt foreign, now. The uniformed happiness of the streets mocking her as she wandered them alone, waiting for the unknown to approach her. She was staring at the moon--bright, full, wanting--when it did. Not a vampire, but a human.

“Sookie Stackhouse?” he asked her. A bodyguard type, burly, a pistol tucked into his belt. “I’m here to take you to the Queen.”

She nodded once, following him to a Jeep parked a few blocks down the road. They drove together in silence, though his eyes kept darting to her passive expression when he thought she wouldn’t notice. They pulled up to a grand estate, a home so big she’d only seen the type in movies. White marble, manicured gardens, candles flickering. A manufactured, tailored ambiance that matched the vampire awaiting her arrival in the arched entryway. Sookie got out of the car in Eric’s oversized clothes, her hair down and limp, and stared at the woman almost wanting to laugh. All of this effort, for her? For this? All of the death, the destruction? The vampire seemed to think the same, smiling cruelly at her as she approached.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she said, “I never thought this moment would come. I’m Sophie-Anne, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Her voice had a Southern lilt but also something deeper, huskier, nearing French.

“Sookie,” she replied, tentatively shaking Sophie-Anne’s cool hand.

Sophie-Anne used the opportunity to pull her closer, Sookie stumbling a few steps toward the woman. She inhaled deeply, smiling further.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “Now that’s the smell I was hoping for.”

“You know my smell?” Sookie asked, confused. Sophie-Anne waved her off.

“Come, come. This is all too formal. Let’s go to the sunroom.” 

Sophie-Anne’s shoes clacked against the marble, echoing down the hallway lined with statues, grand palms, and floor-to-ceiling windows. A bit ironic, given that her entire existence took place at night, but Sookie wasn’t about to question it. Armed guards also stood at most corners of the rooms, though she noted with surprise that they were human, not vampire. Across their chests they held semi-automatics as well as rows and rows of wooden stakes. There were also baskets of them all around, presumably for easy access for the humans. No wonder Sophie-Anne didn’t have any vampire guards. She clearly didn’t trust them.

They approached a crystalline indoor pool with lounge chairs all along the sides. She gestured to one for Sookie to sit.

“I’m so happy you’ve decided to come,” she said, sitting down beside her like two girls at a sleepover party. She made no mention of Arlene nor her methods. “Had to go to an awful lot of trouble, but I can smell that it was worth it.”

Sookie grimaced, leaning away from Sophie-Anne without responding to her bait.

“He really claimed you, didn’t he?” she asked, eying her up and down. “Driving in his car, wearing his clothes… consuming his blood. It’s all a bit much if you ask me.”

_Everyone you love will die._

“Eric means nothin’ to me,” Sookie said vehemently. “I needed him to get here. That’s all.”

Sophie-Anne laughed, her teeth as bleached white as her clothing, as her home. 

“That may be true,” she said, “But I’m not sure that feeling is mutual, if you catch my drift.” She reached out for a few tendrils of Sookie’s hair, rubbing it between her fingertips thoughtfully. Her nails were lacquered, long. “He was supposed to bring you to me ages ago. I suppose I see why he failed to follow my orders. But let me taste the merchandise, just to make sure.”

Sophie-Anne grabbed Sookie’s wrist, dropping her fangs and biting down in one fluid motion. Sookie gasped, the unfamiliar fangs sinking deep into the thin skin. She clutched the lounge chair with her other hand, waiting for Sophie-Anne to finish. Her vision began to spot before Sophie-Anne finally pulled away, wrenching her teeth out and dropping Sookie’s wrist. She licked her lips gratuitously, smiling at Sookie.

“You taste like sunlight,” she said hungrily.

Sookie’s voice was shaking now.

“I’m here, so no one back home dies, right? That was the deal, right?”

Sophie-Anne smiled indulgently, patting her knee.

“Of course, Sweetheart. You’re my pet now. That’s what matters.” Sophie-Anne looked at her with longing. “Just one more taste,” she said, latching onto Sookie’s neck. She exhaled, dropping back onto the lounge chair. It wasn’t long before she passed out.

She came to gradually. It was still night outside so she must not have been out for long. There was blood on her wrist, her neck. She tried to push herself up on her elbow, feeling weak. Drained.

“I’ll confess,” Sophie-Anne said, drinking a bloody cocktail across the pool, watching her. “I went a little overboard.” Sookie looked at the basket of wooden stakes, only ten feet from her. Sophie-Anne was much farther away, but vampire speed negated all distance. There was no shot. “Don’t worry,” Sophie-Anne crooned, “I’ll take good care of you.” 

A sudden commotion at the front caused them both to look over.

“Seems we have company,” she clucked, standing up and walking over to Sookie. She leaned down conspiratorially. “I have a good guess on who it might be.”

Eric was already bleeding when he was walked into the room, surrounded by the human guards. They had guns pointed at him from all angles, his wrists shackled with silver. Sophie-Anne gave him a long look, sitting down beside Sookie and pulling her onto her lap, petting her hair like a child. Sookie’s blood dripped onto Sophie-Anne’s clothing, her black jeans scraping over her perfectly white slacks. She didn’t seem to mind, her eyes tracking Eric menacingly, her fangs already dropped. Sookie noticed then that her hand seemed to be strategically placed just under Sookie’s jawline, just a quick movement away from snapping her neck.

“Kneel,” Sophie-Anne ordered calmly once Eric was within a few feet. Eric, his eyes also on Sophie-Anne’s hand, dropped to his knees before them, breathing heavily. He looked at Sookie, his void pushing on her, trying to communicate something though Sookie didn’t know what. “Eyes on me,” Sophie-Anne said, snapping her fingers to get his attention. 

“Your Majesty,” Eric spoke slowly, bowing his head then lifting it again. She could see several bullet holes in his shoulders, chest, legs each sporting a red bloom of blood.

“Eric, Eric, Eric,” she sighed. “Why did you have to make this so difficult on all of us? It would’ve been so simple, had you just brought her to me like I’d asked two _years_ ago. I know we’ve both lived an awfully long time, but I’m not a patient vampire.”

Eric said nothing, his gaze again drifting from Sophie-Anne to Sookie as though he couldn’t even hear her. Sookie shook her head, not understanding. Two years ago? She hadn’t known him then, she hadn’t even heard of him.

“Instead, you tried to outwit me. A shame. As if guarding that filthy excuse for a restaurant in Bon Temps would work in the long run. You may be the strongest, oldest vampire in my Queendom, but it is still to me that you report, Viking.” Sookie began to put the puzzle pieces together in her mind as Sophie-Anne’s fangs drew closer to her skin. Eric had been there before she even knew. The reason Eric was in the woods at all the night she found him was because of her. Eric had already been protecting her, well before he pledged to in order to absolve his debt. It was always Eric. Her eyes welled up at the realization; if it weren’t for her, none of this would’ve happened at all.

“I’m sorry,” Sookie spoke to Eric as if Sophie-Anne weren’t there. “For all of it.”

“I’m not,” Eric smiled sadly. She felt his emotions press out toward her, concentration moving the feelings in a steady pulse. Courage. Bravery. Trepidation. Understanding. And love. Most importantly, love. He didn’t regret a single moment.

“Enough of this shit,” Sophie-Anne snapped, turning to Sookie. Sookie pulled away, tensing for another bite, worried it would kill her. Instead, she placed her palms on Sookie’s cheeks, cradling her, tilting her head slightly to the side. Sophie-Anne’s pupils dilated wide, her painted lips exhaling slow breaths. “Sookie,” she said softly. Sophie-Anne’s void pushed. Immediately, Sookie relaxed her face, gazing back into Sophie-Anne’s eyes with the abstract expression she’d come to know in the glamoured. 

“Yes,” Sookie breathed, loosening her muscles.

“I’m going to kill your lover now. And you’re going to sit here politely. You’re going to watch and you’re going to enjoy it.” Sophie-Anne smiled generously, petting her hair as Sookie nodded absently, slumping against the side of the lounge chair. 

“I’m going to enjoy it,” Sookie agreed, wispy and detached. 

Confident in her work, Sophie-Anne turned to Eric who still kneeled, shackled, before her. She waved for the humans to retreat, approaching Eric as he struggled against the silver. Sophie-Anne knelt in front of him, caressing his cheek. He nipped at her with a fang and she pulled her hand back. 

“You know what?” she said thoughtfully. “I blame myself. But how was I to know that the human I wanted was going to castrate my best, most ruthless Sheriff. You can’t predict these things, you know?”

Eric threw himself against her, but without the use of his hands and weakened by the silver bullets, he was no match for the younger vampire. Sophie-Anne flipped him on his back, crouched over his prostrate form, a puddle of black splayed on clean, white marble. She knelt in close, finding a bullet hole, pressing down with her pointer finger through his shirt. Eric cried out as the silver nestled deeper into his chest, thrashing beneath Sophie-Anne’s laughter. 

“A pity,” Sophie-Anne remarked, moving in for the killing blow. 

It was then that Sookie thrust the stake into her back, feeling the wood slide between her ribs. Sophie-Anne flailed, stumbling backward toward her.

“Run!” Eric roared, lunging toward Sophie-Anne, slicing at her with his teeth. Sookie ran to the basket of stakes as Eric’s body collided with Sophie-Anne’s, throwing her to the ground. He ripped his shackles through a statue’s sculpted sword, slicing them both in two. Sookie grabbed another stake as Sophie-Anne flew toward her, Eric suddenly throwing her sideways off her path, slamming her into the marble by her neck. 

“Eric!” Sookie cried out, throwing him the stake. He wasted no time, shoving the second stake directly into her heart. He leaned back, falling slightly then catching himself to the sizzling sound of silver. Sophie-Anne’s blood grew around them, surprisingly thick and slow. A deep, dark red. Sookie ran over to Eric, helping him to his feet, Eric’s arm draped over her shoulder as he tried his best to support himself. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here,” she said, stumbling as she dragged them both. 

A few of the humans peeked back in to assess the damage, looking at the duo warily.

“Your Queen is dead,” Sookie declared. “Leave.”

They didn’t hesitate, disappearing from the mansion without a sound. Sookie found the Jeep she was driven in earlier that evening, pushing Eric into the passenger’s seat. She drove then, without direction. She kept driving until the lines of the roads began to warble, until the straight became curved. She pulled over on a deserted road, unable to go farther. Eric was conscious beside her, though barely. She could smell the sizzle of the cuffs as they bit into his skin but she had no way to remove them. He smiled at her anyway, reaching up to rub his thumb gently across her cheek.

“Sleep,” he said softly. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“Are you crazy?” she asked, pulling back out onto the road.

She would get to Bon Temps if it killed her.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to go as far as she’d anticipated. Pam met them, summoned by Eric at some point on the drive. With gloves at the ready, she helped him remove the shackles and most of the silver bullets. Some were already on their way out, the vampiric healing ability doing its job. Eric wanted to give Sookie some of his blood but she denied him, already weakened from the silver and lack of feeding himself. 

“I’ll recover,” Sookie said, tucking herself into Eric’s arms in the backseat of Pam’s car. Eric leaned down and kissed her softly. First her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, then, finally, her lips. Pam glanced back at them in the rearview mirror, rolling her eyes.

“Jesus Christ, you two. Get a room.”

x

Gran officially met Eric. It actually went pretty well, too. He was polite, cordial, and only once did he nearly curse in her presence. He valiantly sipped a Tru Blood while Gran told him stories about Sookie’s childhood; he even pretended they were interesting. He was particularly pleased with himself when Gran called him a ‘nice, young man.’ 

“See?” Eric said playfully later, once they were in bed. “She knows how to compliment a man’s age.”

Sookie laughed, rolling toward him.

“You’re right,” Sookie said, “It’s not your fault you’re so old.”

“I prefer to look at it as experience,” he retorted, picking up her palm and kissing it chastely. 

“You know,” Sookie said, “I think you still owe me a debt.”

“How’s that?” he asked.

“You offered to protect me to even up the score, but you were already doin’ that. You played me for a fool, Mr. Northman,” she scolded, licking his lips with her tongue. 

He grunted. “I told you I’ve learned to hedge my bets,” he smiled. “Plus, I will forever be indebted to you anyway.”

“Forever’s an awful long time,” she replied.

“I’ll give it if you’ll take it, min ängel,” he answered with a wicked grin.

“You know I’m no angel,” she said.

He smiled, capturing her lips in his own briefly.

“Agree to disagree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end!  
> thank you so much for reading xoxo
> 
> music really plays into what i write, so if you're interested, here are the four big ones (reflected in chapter titles)  
> \- the sound of silence, simon & garfunkel  
> \- the long ride home, patty griffin  
> \- the man comes around, johnny cash  
> \- the only thing, sufjan stevens


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